


Adventures of Iron Dad and his Iron Kids (Minus the Mini Van)

by mybrotherharry



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All the dad feels, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Clint/Phil Established Relationship, Endgame fix it, Established Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Iron Dad, M/M, Parent Child Bonding, Parent Tony Stark, Pepper is a TIRED MOM, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Reluctant Dad Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, tony is a tired dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: A series of ficlets featuring Iron Dad, and his children - Morgan, Peter and Harley, along with the occasional Clint, who is emotionally five years old anyway.A #TonyLives Post Endgame Fix-It.FLUFFIEST FLUFF.





	1. Spiderling Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't like how Endgame finished. So I am fixing it. Basically, #TonyLives, Steve is happy in the present with Bucky, and there is no bad blood between Steve and Tony. Also, if the Russos think the soul stone can kill Natasha, they fell for a classic Nat move. She was just vacationing on Vormir while all the mess with Thanos blew over. 
> 
> Morgan is four in this story. I know some of you did the math and can tell me how old she should be, but meh, I am waving my author magic wand and ignoring math.

Tony jerks awake at the sound of the alarm.

"Notifying as per your request, boss," FRIDAY chimes from his phone. He puts it on mute before the sound wakes Pepper up. Or worse, Morgan. He literally _just_ got her down to sleep.

"FRI," he whispers softly, slipping into his sweatpants and making his way out of the bedroom before Pepper jerks awake. "What time's it?"

"Four fifteen am," she replies, sweet and calm as ever.

"Are you kidding me," he groans, getting to the couch in their cosy living room and stretching out until all the kinks in his back pop with a satisfactory click. "He went to sleep two hours ago! It's the fourth time this week."

"I am monitoring his sleep patterns, and he is significantly below the average REM requirement for an adolescent of his age."

Tony sighs, rubbing a hand on his face. "I am getting too old for this, FRI."

He knows what this is about. He's been putting off confronting Peter about it, because what's he even supposed to say to the kid? He knows how close they came to losing _everything_. 

The front door opens gently. The kid thinks he is being quiet, but he isn't, not when Tony is sitting in the living room, waiting for him. For the last four weeks, every time this happened, the kid had gently padded into his and Pepper's bedroom, stood in the doorway in his socks, listened to Tony breathe and swung his way back to Queens.

Well, not anymore.

"Come in here, Pete," Tony calls, his voice startlingly loud in the quiet of the house.

The kid shuffles in, looking sheepish.

"I am sorry to bother you, Mr. Stark," he stammers. "I was just in the area, getting off patrol -"

"You're patrolling upstate now?"

"Mr. Stark -"

"Sit down, kiddo," he gestures at the empty cushion beside him. "Take your shoes off. Get comfortable." _This is your home_ , he doesn't say.

Peter settles onto the other end of the couch, and sits cross legged, the arm of the couch at his back, facing Tony.

"You okay, Peter?"

"Yes, sir," he says, and his eyes are huge and round, almost desperate with some unsaid emotion.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, because Tony can guess. Tony's been at this exact same place before. He knows. He understands viscerally what's going on in Peter's head.

Peter shakes his head. "No."

"Talk to me," he pushes because really, time's up. Tony should have done this four fucking weeks ago when Peter started showing up in the middle of the night.

Peter just looks at him, _really really looks_ at him like he can't get enough.

Tony breaks the silence.

"It's the nearly dying thing, right? You actually did die. You were dead for five years, Pete. I can't tell you - gosh, those five years. I can't tell you what that was like. I am so sorry I left you there. Vision says it was a limbo state that you were in. I want you to know that it's okay for you to have nightmares -"

"They're not about me," Pete says, quiet, voice sharp as a whip.

"What?"

"The nightmares," he says, voice so cutting as to pierce the silence around them. "Mr. Stark, the nightmares are not about me. God, you think that's what this is? It was fine. I was gone for a second. I barely felt it, it was fine. No, that's not - you put the gauntlet on and snapped your fingers!"

Oh. **_Oh._**

"Pete -"

"You nearly _died_ ," he says, and now he isn't looking at Tony. He is looking anywhere but at Tony. "I get it, alright? I am not a kid. I understand. It was four billion lives versus one life. You are Iron Man. That's who you are. If I was in your place, I would have done the same thing -"

"Don't you dare -"

"But you almost died," he says again. "I was five feet away from you and you almost died, and I thought I was done having the people I love die on me, Mr. Stark, so, no, the nightmares are not about being turned into ash at all."

"Pete," Tony says gently. "I am right here."

"I know."

"I am not going anywhere," he says. "My arm was in a sling, and you made sure that I recovered. You did that. You and Morgan and Pep and Harley and Steve, you all did that and I am right here."

"I know."

"You wanna maybe just stay here for a few weeks?" he offers, because what else is he supposed to do? There isn't a parenting manual for nearly dying on your sort-of-kid in the course of protecting the universe. "So that you can make sure that I am really here until you believe it on your own?"

Peter looks at him, considering, eyes dangerously watery.

"Thank you," he says finally, quiet in that way of his. "I would like that."

"You can babysit Morgan on date nights," he says, making the kid laugh.

"You still gotta pay me."

"We can negotiate. Wanna head to bed?"

"I just wanna maybe -"

"Watch a movie?"

"Yes please," he nods.

"FRI, dim the lights and play Princess Bride."

"As you wish, boss," FRI replies, because she is the fucking best.

The man in black has barely reached the Cliffs of Insanity before Peter is snoring into Tony's chest, clinging to him like his life depends on it. Tony settles back against the cushions, with Peter plastered to his front, running his hands through the kid's hair, praying to Gods he doesn't believe in, hoping that he doesn't screw this up.

He is woken up gently by May Parker leaning over him in the beautiful morning sunshine.

"What time'ssit?"

"Seven," she says. "I figured he came here. I drove up to make sure everything was okay."

"Sorry," he says, fighting a yawn, gently lowering Peter into the couch cushions. The kid is still dead to the world, so he throws the blanket from the armchair on the kid and lets him sleep it off. "I should have called last night." He follows her into the kitchen where, bless her, she puts the coffee on.

"It's alright," she says. "I have been meaning to talk to you about it, but looks like he beat me to the punch."

"I should have noticed," he grimaces. "Sorry, May."

"He's gonna be clingy for a few weeks."

He raises a questioning eyebrow, and she answers his unspoken query. "After Ben passed," she says, pulling down mugs from the cupboard, "It was a tough few weeks."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"I would like him to stay here with us. Temporarily," he blurts out. "With your permission. You're welcome to join us."

"It's a hell of a work commute," she smiles. "But by all means, keep him here. School's out on summer break anyway. Being around Morgan does him good."

"She is a little ray of sunshine," he agrees.

"Little ray of sunshine is up and wants daddy," Pepper says from the doorway, her early morning bad mood magnified several times. "Hey May," she smiles at the other woman.

He groans. "Seven am. Why did we get early risers as kids?"

"One of them is snoring loud enough to scare the birds," Pepper points toward the couch with a mug. "You know what I say about the universe."

"Only one problem child at a time," he answers, making his way to his daughter, wondering what fresh hell of parenting this day would bring.

He can't wait to find out.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take prompts for this story! Leave me all your unfulfilled Iron Dad feels ideas in the comments.
> 
> And if you enjoyed this, please show some love to the tumblr post for this fic, and reblog:  
> [here](https://ao3feed-pepperony.tumblr.com/post/184900685086/adventures-of-iron-dad-and-his-iron-kids-minus)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at [baffledkingcomposinghallelujah](http://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com)


	2. Morgan Stark Goes Trick or Treating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan goes trick or treating. She is a Stark, so she does this in style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ash, who fell in love with the idea of little Morgan dressing up as Bucky Barnes for Halloween. 
> 
> We talked about it, and thought that in the way KIDS are, she would find Iron Man as very normal and Captain America as the dork who shows up at dinner from time to time, but gentle, handsome, smiling, broody Bucky Barnes with the metal arm WOULD BE DA SHIT from a four year old's perspective.

Residents of Nation Lane, Brooklyn had the dubious honor of opening their front doors on Halloween night to find Captain America (not a costumed fake, but the real deal) trick or treating with a tiny version of Bucky Barnes.

"Oh, hello Captain," said Molly Evans, Steve's next door neighbor who has remained so unfazed by the presence of Avengers in her neighborhood that Steve suspects her of sharing blood with Phil Coulson. "And here's your Bucky Barnes. Hello there, Sergeant Barnes." She crouches down to greet the adorable four year old girl in the trademark blue jacket, with a long toy rifle on her back, and shiny left arm covered in tin foil.

"I am Bucky," she tells Molly with all the conviction of a four year old. "This is my tutu."

Sure enough, this Bucky Barnes has chosen a lovely blue tutu to go with the blue jacket instead of the classic military trousers. Molly is certain this is an improvement of the original costume.

"You look fantastic," she agrees, grabbing the huge bowl of candy from beside the door where she'd left it. "Clearly, you have excellent taste. Which candy would you like?"

While the little girl peels into the bowl to try and choose, Molly meets Captain America's eye. "Where's the bigger Bucky Barnes?"

"He's back home," he shrugs, and she gathers enough from his tone to understand that perhaps seeing miniatures of himself running around tonight maybe a tad overwhelming.

"Halloween can be a bit much," she agrees, passing out the pack of peanut butter M&Ms that the little girl decided upon, slipping an extra piece of candy. "Here you go, Sergeant Barnes. Thank you for your service."

"You're welcome! Come oooooooon, Uncle Cap," she whines, sounding remarkably put out for someone who comes upto maybe Steve's knees.

'Uncle Cap?' Molly mouths at him, hiding a smile behind a hand.

"Tony's doing, don't ask," he shakes his head, but grasps the little girl's hand in his, as they turn away. "Alright, Miss Morgan, let's do four more houses on this block before we call it a night."

"Six at least, please, I am not tired -"

"You are not, but I am! -"

She hears them bicker good naturedly as they step away from her porch, and smiles. From the window of her front room, she can see the gleaming red and gold suit glint in the moonlight next door, and a couple of teenage boys talking excitedly to Mr. Stark, their costumes unclear from her vantage point.

"Who was it, honey?" her husband asks, poking his head around the doorway.

"Oh, just Captain America and Bucky Barnes," she replies, beaming. It was true enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take prompts for this story! Leave me all your unfulfilled Iron Dad feels ideas in the comments.
> 
> And if you enjoyed this, please show some love to the tumblr post for this fic, and reblog:  
> [here](https://ao3feed-pepperony.tumblr.com/post/184900685086/adventures-of-iron-dad-and-his-iron-kids-minus)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at [baffledkingcomposinghallelujah](http://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com)


	3. I said be a Kid (Clearly I should have been more specific)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is an exhausted Dad.

Tony is about to turn in when FRIDAY alerts him of an incoming call.

"FRI, it's three am," he points out a little redundantly.

"It's Peter, boss," she replies, and just like that, he freezes.

"Damn it," he groans, turning back to the living room to take the call. "Hello? Peter?"

"Mr. St - Stark," Peter sounds weird. He is slurring, and Tony can barely hear what he's saying against the background of very loud music coming through the phone.

His heart thudding in his chest, Tony asks, "Where are you? I know May's instituted a curfew. Where the hell are you?"

"Party," he manages to spit out.

"WHERE is this party?"

"Mr. Stark - Staaaaark," he sing-songs, "That's a funny name, I never thought of that before -"

_What the hell._

"Is this - FRI, did this kid drunk dial me? Wait, hold on, Peter Anthony Parker, are you drunk?"

"My middle name is Benjamin," he giggles down the line.

"Your middle name is trouble is what it is," Tony groans, pulling up an holographic interface and setting FRIDAY to triangulate Peter's location. "As in, the enormous amount of trouble you will be in when I get my hands on you. Peter, for god's sake, it's a school night!" He hates how much he sounds like a dad, he really does.

"Can you come get me, Mr. Stark?" Peter says, his voice still coming out in slow, drawling tones that the undercurrent of worry that's thrumming through Tony tingles unpleasantly. "Coz May will kill me. I will be dead, Mr. Stark, just dead."

"Hang tight, kid," he says, getting up and activating the gauntlets at his wrist. "And find some water while I get there."

"What's wrong?" Pepper asks, just as the suit finishes forming around him.

"The spiderling is grounded," he mutters. "Until he is thirty."

"I'll set out the hair dye," she says, eyes twinkling.

"You think I am kidding," he takes off, and calls over his shoulder, "but he is making me go grey."

He doesn't bother knocking when he gets there. The entire structure of the two-storeyed house is throbbing with how loud the music is. Disco balls hang from the ceiling of the haphazard living room, throwing patterned lights in the darkness. Teenagers, most of them in various states of undress, are dancing or stretching out on the furniture about the place. He separates three enthusiastic little miscreants while he looks, trying not to panic at the number of open bottles and solo cups of alcohol he can see lying around.

"FRI, scan for Peter."

"Is that - hey, dude - that's Iron Man!"

He rolls his eyes, making his way through the dancing bodies.

"Insufficient light for facial recognition, boss," FRI tells him through the HUD.

"Triangulate based on his cell phone," he instructs, while finding the light switches and flipping them on. "Break it up, hooligans. Time to go home!"

"Dude!"

"Woah -"

"IRON MAN!"

"Party's over! Scram!"

Ignoring the collective whining, the overall unhappiness and the requests for selfies, he makes his way through the rubble to the back porch, where Peter is slumped on a bench beside Ned, who is snoring into Peter's shoulder.

"Kid," he says. "I miss the days when you refused to come with me to Europe cause you had homework. I am a terrible influence."

"You came!" the kid says, and the watery, uncertain note in it makes Tony's heart throb.

"Of course I fucking came," he says, stepping out of the armor. He gets there just in time to catch him as Peter face plants forward. The groaning and the scent tell him what's what before he can look down. "Did you just throw up on my shoes?"

"I am so sorry -" More groaning and belching.

Tony sighs, and breathes deep, counting down from ten like how Pepper made him when they found out she was pregnant with Morgan.

"Kid."

"Sorry, I am sorry -"

"Kid, never mind that, are you alright?"

"Mr. Stark," he gasps out, as Tony hands him a bottle of water from a nearby table. "I don't feel so good."

For a moment, he is back on a different world, under a different sky. But another loud splash of something disgusting on his feet is enough to remind him that this is earth, and Peter is solid in front of him, being an utter teenage mess.

"Yeah, you don't say," he takes the kids in his arms. "I am taking you home. Hey, Ned! NED!"

"Huh, what? What?" The kid startles awake. "Mr. Iron Man?"

"Kid, you okay to get home?"

"Uhm, yeah?"

"Party's over. Come on, skedaddle. Did you drink?"

"No, sir," Tony looks at him and he seems reasonably steady, and his eyes are much clearer than Peter's, so he decides to leave the kid for now, and have Happy check up on him later in the night.

"Up you get, Pete, come on," he steps back inside the armor and takes Peter up in his gauntleted arms, "Kid, hold on, okay? I will take you home and put you to bed."

By the time he clears Manhattan, the kid is sound asleep. Mindful of the precious cargo he is holding, he keeps the speed to less than half of what he would usually make in the armor. Within the hour, he is back home at the cottage where Pepper is waiting up for him.

"He fell asleep on the way," he tells her, as the helmet retracts back into the suit. He walks up the stairs to Peter's bedroom, nudges the door open and deposits the kid on the bed. Pepper follows him, with a bottle of water and aspirin that she lays out on the bedside table.

Stepping out of the suit again, Tony pulls off Peter's shoes and socks, strips the kid's jacket and tucks him in, brushing the hair off his forehead.

Pepper leans closer, rubbing a hand gently down his back. "What's that smell?" she whispers quietly so not to wake the kid.

"Little brat threw up on me," he says, but his tone is fond. They step outside the room, holding hands and he shuts the door gently behind him. "You were right about needing five bedrooms."

"I am always right," she leans up on her toes to kiss him.

"Morgan asleep?"

"She's out like a light," she smiles.

"At least the universe is kind," he murmurs. "Only one problem child a day."

She laughs, gentle and musical against his cheek. "Pete's not a problem kid. He's just being a teenager."

"If this is what being a teenager entails, I am banning Morgan from growing up. She's gonna be four forever."

"Tony."

"I am serious," he says with mock sternness. "The kid is determined to give me a heart attack."

"You can tear him a new one tomorrow about poor life choices," she laughs. "Are you coming to bed or not?"

"Yes, dear," he nods and follows her, turning the light out in the doorway.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take prompts for this story! Leave me all your unfulfilled Iron Dad feels ideas in the comments.
> 
> And if you enjoyed this, please show some love to the tumblr post for this fic, and reblog:  
> [here](https://ao3feed-pepperony.tumblr.com/post/184900685086/adventures-of-iron-dad-and-his-iron-kids-minus)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at [baffledkingcomposinghallelujah](http://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com)


	4. Sledding with the Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zend on tumblr prompted Tony's line in Endgame - _"Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding."_

"I remember expressly forbidding this," Tony says, arms crossed over his chest. "I gave it back to you so she wouldn't do this."

"Let the kid have some fun, Tony," Steve rolls his eyes. "Besides, it wasn't even proper sledding. It was me dragging her around on the shield until she tired out. Popsicle High Fives, Morgan!"

The little girl taps her hand against his upraised one, from her seat on the shield.

"Popsicle High Fives?"

"We are cool and we like juice pops," he explains, like its obvious. "Come on, itsybitsy, let's go help Clint build the snowman." Morgan hops up off the shield and climbs onto Steve's shoulders, perched on her little throne like she belongs there, content with her lot in life.

"I wasn't done talking to you, Rogers!"

"Tony," Steve says patiently, gesturing at the snow covered Central Park around them. "It's the kid's first snowfall in New York. It's got to be an event. Besides, it was not dangerous sledding. It was child size sledding."

"On a trash can lid!"

"She was SAFE!"

"Fine," Tony says, knowing he's lost this one, especially since Pepper gave in already. He looks up at his little girl. "You be careful now, little miss. You got your gloves on?"

She holds up her palms to show him her covered palms. Her cute mittens have little Spiderman masks on them.

"See, she will be fine. Bucky and I will be with her the whole time," Steve assures Tony. "And afterwards, Clint is taking her to Times Square to get cotton candy and hot chocolate. He will watch her."

Tony glares at him.

"Fine, I will go with them and watch Clint watch her."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to worry about really -"

A loud crash from behind them interrupts Steve mid sentence. A dull thump followed by the sound of someone going "OW", in a very familiar voice.

"Harley?"

"I am okay!" comes the bellow, but its weaker and lacking the oomph factor Tony usually associates with the kid. "Sort of."

Dad senses tingling, he turns around with Steve at his heels, rushing toward where he left Harley last.

Harley's face is tear streaked, and he is holding his right arm close to his chest, hunched into a small ball. "Mr. Stark," he groans. "Something really hurts."

Terror seized Tony's limbs, and as if on auto pilot, crouches beside the kid in the snow, taking him in his arms, pulling out his phone. "FRI, you there?"

"For you, boss, always," comes the reply. He holds up the phone above the kid's right arm, where he is still holding it gingerly close, as FRI does a quick scan.

"Clean break of the Radius," FRI calls out. "I recommend the nearest ER, 12 minutes away."

"B'loon!" Morgan calls, pointing at the top of the huge tree beside them. "B'loon daddy!"

Tony looks up and sure enough, he sees the Captain America balloon he bought Morgan at the park this morning.

"Kid," he rubs his temples because there it is, the stress headache that accompanies him whenever he decides to take Peter, Harley AND Morgan into the city on the same day. "Please tell me you didn't fall off climbing up a tree for a two dollar balloon."

"She loves Balloon Cap!" Harley defends himself, like he is offended Tony thought he wouldn't climb a tree for Morgan.

"Duuuude," Peter says, joining them, "if you had told me, I could have just webbed it and-"

"No, thank you," Tony interrupts before further stupidity explodes in every direction. "Nobody is climbing a tree. Nobody is webbing a tree," he hisses through clenched teeth, "in broad daylight in the middle of central park in civilian clothes."

"Oh," Peter's eyes widen. "Right."

Tony rolls his eyes. The kid was worse than him at the whole secret identity thing.

"Okay," he says, breathing deep before someone got any more hurt (and knowing them, it would probably be him, going grey and dying of a heart attack the next time one of his kids decided to open all the cages in the Central Park zoo on a dare or something). "Up you get, kiddo, come on, we're going to the ER. Steve, can you call -"

Steve is two steps ahead of him, already on the phone talking to Happy.

"He is bringing the car around."

"Good," he says, putting an arm around Harley and pressing him close to his side. "Please, for the love of God, you two, you have maxed out on your quota for shenanigans today. No more shenanigans. No sledding. No winter sports. No sports of any kind. We're going to play the sit down and shut up game."

He glares, and both Peter and Morgan look chastened. Harley sniffles into his jacket, uncaring about showing weakness because of the pain. "I know kiddo, I know it hurts. We will get you all well and good, and see if I can get out of being murdered by your mom."

He puts the kids in the car, leaves Steve to handle Clint and the other Avengers scattered about the park and takes his child to the ER, fully expecting an argument about the appropriate color of the cast they'd likely have to get.

*

The cast is Iron Man red. Morgan classes up the proceedings by drawing all over it in her golden glitter pen as soon as they get home.

They put Harley on the good drugs, so he conks out on the couch as soon as his head touches the cushions.

Peter sets himself to building a blanket fort in the living room around the couch, as Morgan dumbs pillows and sheets on the floor. The two of them settle in with DVDs and popcorn, staying close so they can keep Harley company. Leaving them to it, Tony goes into the kitchen craving a drink but settling for root beer.

He finds the stupid Cap Balloon tied with a string to the handle of the refrigerator.

"Clint dropped it off," Pepper says, coming up behind him. "He climbed up the tree and got it down, and wanted me to report that he broke no bones in the process." She presses her cheek to his back, her arms around his waist. "Is Harley going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Tony murmurs. "Six to eight weeks of healing. It's gonna be more annoying than painful. He will need someone to take notes for him in school for a while. We have to go back for an X Ray in six weeks."

"Hm-mm."

"All this for stupid balloon."

"He loves her," Pepper says. "They both do."

"Got them wrapped around her little finger," he mutters, making her laugh.

"Like father, like sons, I guess."

"I am not wrapped around her - hold on, I am not their dad! Pep -"

"Oh sweetheart," she shuffles him around, looking into his eyes. "Really think about it? Really, really think about it for a second -"

He does. "Oh jesus, I am kinda their dad!"

"Yes, you are."

"Pep, how did this happen?"

"Well, I warned you about bringing home strays," she chuckles. "But you have a soft heart and they are the best boys."

He takes her hand and presses a kiss, "They really are."


	5. One Kid in College and One in a Spiderman Onsie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One day, that kid’s gonna yell at you that you can’t tell him what to do cause you’re not his real dad. That’s how you’ll know that you’re his dad.”
> 
> Alternately titled, Harley and Tony disagree (loudly) about life choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everythinghurtssemicolon on tumblr, who prompted - "Harley or Peter say that Tony's not their dad in the middle of an argument."
> 
> You guys! You have been incredible with the prompts and comments. I am feeling loved! 
> 
> Yes, I am planning drabbles with Nebula, Shuri and a couple of stories that have some love for Clint. (YAY CLINT).

Sam is running several minutes late when he makes his way to the Compound. There’s an Avengers training drill scheduled, and Steve gets irritated when people show up late and break up practices once he’s paired them off.

However, when he gets to the gym, he finds it empty.

“FRIDAY,” he asks, eyes flicking to the ceiling even though Stark’s told him a million times that the server bank is housed in the basement, “where is everyone?”

“The team is running slightly behind schedule,” FRIDAY informs him. “Captain Rogers is in the workshop with boss, if you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks FRIDAY,” he makes his way to the elevator, deciding he might as well check out what’s causing the delay.

*

Tony Stark’s workshop looks straight out of an alien spaceship. Every surface is interactive, and blue, glowing holograms dance across open table tops, showing the schematic of some design or the other. It’s the ultimate kid in a candy shop scenario for the nerd squad.

Today, the shop’s floor to ceiling glass doors and windows are shut, with Pepper, Peter and Steve sprawled out on the long couches that Tony keeps  _ outside  _ the workshop. Peter’s got the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his face, head slumped against the back of the couch. Pepper’s reading through something on a Starkpad, and Steve’s got his chin resting on his hands, staring intently at the scene in the workshop.

“Cap?”

“Hey Sam,” Steve smiles when he spots Sam coming down the hall. “We’re running behind schedule.”

“I can see that,” he steps beside the couch, taking in the spectacle beyond the glass. Tony and Harley are standing on opposite ends of the shop. Tony’s got his hands on his hips, stance wide, and from his expression, it is clear that he is arguing - rather loudly - with the kid, who is possibly giving back as good as he is getting. He is gesticulating wildly with his hands, when he is not rubbing them through his hair every few minutes in exasperation.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks the trio outside, because this is not even the weirdest thing he’s walked in on when he’s come to visit.

Surprisingly, it’s Peter who answers, face still behind the hood of his sweatshirt.

“The young protege wants to do the unspeakable,” he says, his voice muffled by the hood. “So clearly, Iron Dad must step in and prevent the prodigal from wrongdoing.”

Sam laughs, despite himself. “What does Harley want to do?”

“Take a break year,” Pepper says, looking up from her Starkpad. “Oh, I hope they’re done soon. I have got a bunch of things I need to talk to Tony about.”

“Should we intervene?” Steve asks, standing up. 

“Nah,” Pepper says, stretching with his hands behind her head, trying to get some motion back. “They have been going at it for nearly a week now. They should be running out of steam.”

“What’s wrong with taking a break year?” Sam can’t help but ask. Stark doesn’t seem like a puritan about academia.

“It’s not about Harley taking a break year,” Pepper explains. “It’s what he plans to do with it.”

“What?”

“Volunteer for a political campaign,” Pepper shrugs.

Sam’s eyes go wide, his grin spreading. “Do I wanna know?”

“It’s not about the candidate,” she smiles. “He’s actually picked someone Tony funds already. A young upstart from New York. That’s not the problem. Harley got into Caltech Engineering.”

Sam whistles. “Smart kid.”

“Yeah,” Pepper nods. “And they’re disagreeing about deferred admission and career trajectories. FRIDAY, switch on audio in there, please. I would rather know what to argue them both down from.”

Loud, angry voices fill the hallway.

“- the most ludicrous thing you could do, instead of taking AP Quantum Physics -”

“ - must be young people in politics and don’t say its a waste of time -”

“ - you wanna fetch coffee for some upstart socialist and write press briefings -”

“ - it’s not, it's a citizen’s duty to do the right thing, and with climate change and the minimum wage -”

“They’re only now hitting climate change?” Peter huffs. “It’s going to still be a while. They’ve gotta do  _ the entire system is rigged anyway  _ and  _ I could buy you a senate district.” _

“Don’t forget  _ real life isn’t the West Wing,”  _ Steve quotes, because he  _ loves _ Aaron Sorkin and the West Wing. Introducing the man to the show was one of Clint’s less brilliant ideas.

“ _ Can  _ Stark buy him an entire district?” Sam asks Pepper, cause the question needs to be asked.

“Tony vastly overestimates his own wealth,” she says, stepping closer to the glass, “and the things I will let him do with it.”

“I don’t see why you care anyway, Tony,” Harley yells now, getting impatient with Tony’s verbal barrage. “You are not my dad!”

Silence. A moment’s silence, and the expression on Tony’s face is heartbreaking for an instant before he schools it.

“Well,” he yells back, “I might as well be! I am nearly as good as, and let me tell you, if your deadbeat of a dad  _ was  _ here, he would agree with me about this ridiculous thing you want to do with a Caltech acceptance letter.”

“He recovered faster than he did the time I threw that in his face,” Peter observes, sounding put out. The kid was actually far more perceptive than they gave him credit for. “Though that’s not really saying anything.”

The fallout from the time Peter yelled at Tony about not being  _ his dad _ had not been pretty. The Avengers want to live through neither the subsequent week of moping and building armors (from Tony) nor the fortnight long pouting sulk Peter remained in, unable to figure out how to apologize.

“Tony,” Harley says in an undignified whine, “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” he says, “but you’re still going to college.”

“Of course, I am fucking going to college -”

“Language,” comes the automatic retort. 

“You don’t  _ care  _ about my language, you have  _ never  _ cared about my language, stop trying to have the last word and listen to me. I am not saying  _ never,  _  I am just saying - maybe Caltech can wait a year.”

“Kiddo,” Tony sits down on one of his swivelling chairs, facing Harley. “You have gotta tell me what’s this about, cause up until a few weeks ago, you wouldn’t shut up about going to college.”

“I am not allowed to change my mind?”

“Of course you are,” Tony says, his expression making it clear that he is struggling to find the right words.

“Wow, would you look at that,” Pepper says in a mock whisper to Steve. “They are actually talking about feelings.”

“First time for everything.”

“But you have to tell me what brought this on,” Tony keeps talking to Harley. “If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way, hell, I could even call her and see what she thinks -”

“Don’t -”

“Fine, fine,” he nods. “I won’t - she doesn’t like billionaires that much, so maybe you knowing me will detract from your chances -”

“Don’t be ridiculous -”

“But tell me why you’re doing this, and can it with the climate change and women’s rights speech. I am not saying you’re lying about it, but I know that’s not what brought this on.”

Silence, as man and boy look at each other.

“Come on, kiddo, it’s me we’re talking about. Your favorite mechanic.”

“I was going to go to Caltech,” Harley says after nearly an entire minute’s silence. “I was going to college, and I was going to do the Stark R&D thing during the summer. Graduate, and take my job with Stark robotics, and build things.”

“Yeaaaah?” Tony says, stretching the word out, not yet seeing where Harley was going with it.

“I was going to be an engineer and build things, incredible things sure, but I - that’s all I would ever be. And I thought - it’s stupid, I guess - but I wanted - I wanted to do  _ something  _ that would - I dunno, change the world? Even if it’s a small thing. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself.” The  _ just like you  _ remained unsaid and yet seemed to ring through the room, remarkably loud.

“Harley,” Tony sighs, and the word comes out like it takes everything out of him to say it.

“Oh,” Pepper gasps beside Sam putting a hand to her mouth. “Oh.” She says again, like the past few weeks of angst are finally being explained and falling into place.

“It’s not -” the kid continues, “It’s not - I am not complaining! I know what an incredible opportunity it is, and Stark engineers  _ do routinely  _ change the world, I get that -”

“Harley, come here please,” the kid looks up at him, eyes huge. “Come here kiddo.” Tony pulls another chair closer, turning it to face him, and the kid drops into it.

Tony reaches out with a hand, brushing the haphazard curls off his forehead, rubbing his thumb in circles over his cheek. The kid presses into it, accepting the affection for what it is.

“I am going out on a limb here,” he says. “I am going to answer the question you’re not asking me. Because I know you, and I certainly know myself, I can tell this is going to be exceedingly uncomfortable for the both of us. But needs must.”

“What are you on about -”

“If, tomorrow, you told me that you didn’t want to work for Stark Industries and decided to make smoothies in a Starbucks, I would support you hundred percent. I mean, I would question your taste in populist beverage kingpins, but the point is - you would still be welcome here,  _ and  _ I would expect you to show up for dinner everyday and be annoying.”

“I don’t - that’s not -”

“You don’t need to be at SI, or hell, even an engineer if that’s not what you want to do.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” he asks again, “Do you really? Cause kiddo, I don’t hang around you cause you’re brilliant and can usually keep up with me in the lab. Sure, it’s fun, but I am not going to leave just cause you decided to make smoothies for Coffee Big Brother.”

“You hear what I am saying?” Tony asks again, when the silence stretches between them and Harley looks too moved to say anything. 

“Yeah,” he nods slowly. “Yeah, I mean, yeah.”

“Also,” Tony smiles. “Just, for the record, and also cause Pepper is right outside the door eavesdropping, the SI job is far from a sure thing. You still gotta show up with a near perfect Caltech transcript and a mindblowing final project before she’s gonna even let you interview with R&D.”

“You’re R&D.” Harley smiles, eyes suspiciously watery. “And you have already seen my final project.”

“Laser shooting potato gun, yes,” he laughs. “Jazz it up and add stealth mode. Come on, don’t be lazy, commit to the idea.”

The troop outside don’t understand the remark, but from the way Harley laughs, it must be an inside joke thing. 

“Oh, hell with it,” Tony leans forward and embraces the kid, rubbing a hand down his back. “There’s nothing you can do that won’t make me proud of you, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harley says, stumbling out of the hug. “Thank you. And wow, you were right. This was very uncomfortable, let’s never do this again.”

“You got it, kid,” Tony laughs. “Okay, I better scram. That’s Captain America standing outside giving us space for emotional man talk so he won’t have to deal with it when we drill. Let my code compile and keep the music down, alright?”

“Yeah. So I  _ can  _ call the congresswoman’s office about the job now?”

“Yes,” Tony nods. “Hell, I will even show up for fundraising.”

“Please don’t,” Harley looks horrified.

Laughing, Tony exits the workshop only for Pepper to give him a tight hug.

“Okay, how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” Pepper sniffles. “Good job.”

“Pep,” Tony says. “I am done. I am going out on a high. That’s my last act of parenting. You can raise Morgan and Steve can take Spidey. I am so done. This kind of stress isn’t good for my heart.”

“Hell yeah Captain America!” Peter throws his arms up above his head in mock celebration.

“Take note, kid. You are not allowed to stress me about college,” Tony tells him. “You are going to MIT and that’s it.”

“I have always wanted to go backpacking across Europe and join a cult.”

“Oh god,” Tony rubs a hand over his temples. “Steve, he’s your problem now. I am going out on a high. I am retiring with a martini to Malibu.”

“Okay,” Steve nods. “But drill first. Come on,” he orders, marching his men down to the gym listening to Tony ramble about the Malibu beach house.  
  
~  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the NY Congresswoman Harley wants to work for is [AoC](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandria_Ocasio-Cortez). Steve loves _The West Wing_. Disdain for Starkbucks is a prominent Stark family virtue. This is my canon and I refuse to believe otherwise.
> 
> Comments are loved! prompts welcome!


	6. Bake Sale Dad Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every parent knows the standard bake sale for a worthy cause template. Tony isn't the exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys! Y'all have been incredible with your response to this story! Thanks so much! You keep me going.

"Hey guys!" Spiderman's hooded face pops up on the screen of the video. "This is your friendly neighborhood spiderman, and today, I am coming to you from Av- Stark Tower! Check it out!"

The camera view flips away from Spiderman's face, and pans to show the gleaming surfaces of what appears to be a sophisticated kitchen.

"We are prepping for the St. Jude's Children's Wing Bake sale," Spiderman says excitedly, as he pans the camera, bringing a flour streaked Tony Stark standing at the counter wearing a garish, neon green apron. There is a suspicious looking stain at the front, and the original cartoon (' _Stand Back, We are trying science'_  ) is barely legible. Next to him is the Black Widow, crunching up chocolate chips with the edge of a very sharp looking knife. Tony throws up the victory sign at the camera.

"And Spidey is trying to get out of doing his fair share by filming this for the internet," he says.

"I am doing it for the vine, Mr. Stark!"

The counter in front of them is covered by long, thirteen by nine cupcake pans, some of them partially filled with the mix with the remaining just buttered and waiting to fulfil their destiny. Cartons of eggs, milk, cream and flour are scattered about the place, with atleast a couple of pints of the stuff in Tony's hair. Natasha looks as unruffled as ever, even with suspect looking egg shell on the collar of her shirt.

"Kid, come help!"

"We are making - Mr. Stark, how many are we making?"

"Kid, I am quality assurance, not quantity. Ask Banner!"

The view swivels to take in a ruffled looking Dr. Banner at a make shift white board mounted on the far wall, marker in hand.

"Three hundred and sixty," he says, not looking away from his board with a long row of numbers and tally marks that possibly makes sense only to him.

"We are making three hundred and sixty cupcakes," Spidey says, bringing the view back to the pan that Natasha is placing little cupcake wrappers in. "They are going to be red velvet, strawberry and chocolate, and maybe coconut and pistachios -"

"VETO!" A bellow, that sounds suspiciously like Hawkeye, cuts out what Spiderman is saying for a moment.

"Okay, so maybe not coconut and pistachios! But there's going to be red frosting with black spiderwebs drawn into it, cause that's what's going down when the Black Widow is in the house!"

Tony loudly clears his throat.

"We are also drawing little iron man masks on some of them."

Tony throws him a look.

"Okay, on _most_ of them. Most of them are going to be Iron Man themed! But what we wanted to say is this. I am adding a link to the charity's donations page here, so if you have the means to contribute, please think of the children of St. Jude's today. The Maria Stark Foundation is matching every donation, and if that's not reason enough for you, remember, there's more than one way to be an Avenger. Right, Mr. Stark?"

"Right," Tony throws up the victory sign again, his eyes fond at the boy holding the camera. "Any bunch of goodlooking spandex clad idiots can save the world. You guys make the world go around. Be kind! Stark out."

"And that's it for today from your friendly neighborhood spiderman!"

~

~

_@heisIronMan456: So, Tony Stark is apparently a hot dad now? When did this happen?_

_@StarkLover4Eva: He can frosting my cupcake at any time. If you know what I mean._

#IronDad trends for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There IS a St. Jude charity, and if you liked this story, and have say $5 to spare, consider [donating?](https://www.stjude.org/give.html)  
> There is more than one way to be an avenger, after all.


	7. The Freezer Meals Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony learns that feeding teenagers and a Norse God is no easy task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endgame made me think that Nebula can eat. She is only part android, and she is a teenager in this verse. Because I am the author and I waved my magic wand. 
> 
> *jazz hands*

_The Compound_

He isn't an observant man. Well, that's not entirely true. He's discovered an element, added a couple of new mathematical constants to the knowledge base (Stark Constant of Neutrino Based Conductivity is his favorite) and revolutionized half a dozen industries in the last decade. So he IS an observant man. He just doesn't notice things like food, or the lack thereof.

He doesn't notice the pattern. Not right away. But after walking in on Peter and Nebula fighting with forks for the last cuppa noodle soup in the kitchen at two am, even he starts to get a clue.

"What - why - will the two of you stop that racket?" He pleads, because he has a pounding headache and quantum physics is being an unco-operative bitch tonight.

Peter immediately looks chastened, because he is the kind of child who cares deeply about getting merit badges and top grades from the time he was in Kindergarten. Tony feels like a monster. "Sorry, Mr.Stark," Peter says. Beside him, Nebula looks as apologetic as he imagines it is possible for her to look.

"Oh God," Tony reaches for the coffee machine and nearly hugs it to his chest when it turns on and starts buzzing. "What are the two of you doing?"

"Nothing," Peter answers way too quickly. Nebula is still staring very determinedly at the wall behind Tony's head.

"You are not in trouble," he says, because he needs to remove the guilty expression off Peter's face right this instant. "Just tell me."

"We got hungry," Nebula answers, and she looks anywhere but at him.

They have been dancing around a very delicate line, Nebula and he. Her father nearly killed the both of them, a fact that hangs over their heads. He thought **_he_ **had daddy issues, and then he met her - this beautiful, delicate, damaged and brave girl. They both lived out their worst nightmares on Titan, and somehow, the more he got to know her, he saw himself reflected back in her defiant eyes.

She is wary of him still. He knows not to take it personally because to her, learning to trust is an exercise muddled in danger.

"There's food. We keep food around here," he tells them, moving to open the pantry door. An empty box of pasta noodle stares him in the face, with a couple of bags of salt, spices and a nearly empty jar of almonds. He opens the fridge, and finds it empty too, aside from a can of milk that's got maybe a quarter pint left. "FRI?" he calls. "Did the weekly grocery order not get delivered?"

"It did, boss," FRIDAY answers. "And it's twice a week now. The last delivery was received yesterday evening. I have been increasing the size of the order proportionally with the rate of consumption, but Thor's arrival was.... unexpected."

"Right," Tony shuts the fridge door, shaking his head. "We need more food around here, pronto. Triple everything, FRI and insist on a delivery now."

"It's two twenty am."

"Fine," he mutters. "First thing in the morning." He rummages in his favorite drawer, pushing aside Bruce's gazillion bottles of spices and reaching under the dirty towels for the stack of menus. He finds the one for the twenty four seven diner. "Call Carl, FRI."

"Connecting."

He picks up on the fourth ring.

"Mr. Stark," a gruff voice answers. "I thought I told you we don't deliver anymore."

"Carl!" he says cheerfully. "Stop that nonsense. You know how much you wanna see me."

"Not that much, Mr. Stark."

"I tip 150%?" he phrases it as a question.

"Make it two hundred," the man sighs.

"You are a peach, Carl."

"The usual?"

"Um, actually no, triple my usual order," he states, and then backtracks because he remembers Peter's metabolism. "Actually, quadruple my usual order. Throw in like, a couple more large fries. No milkshake though." Spiderman on sugar at two am was a terrible idea.

"I like milkshake," Nebula states. She says it blandly, the way she says everything else. The way she said anything when they were stuck on the ship and drifting nowhere, counting every breath.

"On second thought," he tells Carl. "One vanilla milkshake."

He confirms credit card information and thanks Carl for being the fucking best, before hanging up. The coffee machine beeps, and he grabs a mug, grateful beyond words that the Avengers ate him out of house and home but left him his coffee.

He fills the mug and takes a deep, appreciative sip. Peter tentatively tugs at the wrapper of the cuppa soup.

"No," he tells the kid. "God, please no. Don't eat that trash. That's vile. Food will be here soon. And for the record," he decides to clarify because he didn't think teenagers were starving in his goddamn house. He was a fucking billionaire. He has never had to worry about other people needing to eat in his Mad Scientist McMansion, so this is a new and frightening development in his life. "You can ask FRIDAY to order you anything you want, alright? We will work on maintaining a Thor proof pantry, but if we run out, you don't need to wait. You can just order in, okay?"

"We couldn't possibly -" Peter begins but shuts up when Tony glares at him.

"Kid, just don't -"

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Thank you, Tony."

"Yeah."

*  
It must work out okay after that, because, aside from checking in with FRIDAY once about the grocery delivery schedule, he neither hears nor sees any starving teenagers on the property. When Morgan comes to the Compound, rare as it is, Pep usually takes over the cooking and feeds them all. Peter remains his usual, enthusiastic, word vomiting self. Nebula decides to hang around for a big longer while Gamora goes on a holiday with Quill. So it becomes a common occurrence for him to walk into the rec room and find Nebula sprawled on the couch in the rec room, watching reality television.

It's blissful. He should have known it wouldn't last.

A very angry Sam Wilson finds him in the workshop one evening with a pamphlet on something called the diet pyramid. Chinese takeaway and _hell-yeah-more-cheese-on-my-pizza_ are apparently not food groups in their own right. It's a tragedy, but unfortunately, he isn't a nutritionist.

"Teenagers need a balanced diet," he tells Tony who's into hour twenty of a bender, and is trying to not see two Sam Wilsons instead of one. "MSG is not a balanced diet. He is a growing boy."

"Right," he nods. "Yes, I agree." This is usually the right thing to say, he knows, from long suffering experience of dealing with phone calls from Pepper.

"Steve, Clint and Bucky are away on mission, and Banner is on Asgard."

"Yes, - ah - that's a useful piece of information, thanks for that, I guess -"

"The people who can cook worth a damn in this building are all gone, Stark," Sam spells it out for him. "The kid has been eating pizza for all three meals."

He drops the spanner he is holding, finally paying attention.

"Ah."

"Yes, ah."

*  
Peter gets back to the compound and heads straight for the kitchen. May is at work, and he didn't wanna go back to an empty apartment.

Mr. Stark is nowhere to be seen, which isn't unusual for the middle of the day. He is either at SI, or working in the lab. Peter knows not to disturb him. He is just gonna get a bite to eat and then go see if Harley is free.

When he gets to the kitchen, Harley is already there, standing at the counter and staring up at the ceiling like he is arguing with FRIDAY.

"What's wrong?" Peter asks.

"FRI won't let me order dinner," Harley tells him. "Hey, by the way."

"Hey," he greets back, smiling. Harley's curls are wet and falling over his eyes, and Peter feels this need to brush them out of the way. Shaking his head to clear it a bit, he says, "That's odd. Mr. Stark said we could order in when we wanted."

"Boss has placed a caveat on the previous protocol," she explains. "Please open the refrigerator and remove the large baking pan set to thaw. It needs to go into the oven and bake at four hundred and ten for thirty minutes."

"What the hell -" Harley opens the fridge door and finds the foil wrapped large tray.

_**CHICKEN PARMESAN**_ , the large, blocky writing on the foil is familiar. Under the label, there are scribbled instructions on how to thaw and bake the thing, along with the date of freezing.

"Did he - he made this?"

"This and twenty four other freezer meals."

Peter and Harley exchange glances.

"Please put the tray in the oven, Mr. Keener. Miss Nebula will also require sustenance in the next thirty minutes."

Peter opens the freezer while Harley puts the tray in the oven and keys in the settings. Sure enough, there are baking pans stacked one over the other, clearly labeled. He identifies Tony's handwriting on some of them, along with Pepper's neat script on others. There is also a couple of scrawls that have to be Sam's relaxed, long script.

Pasta. Soup. Beef Casserole. Chicken Fried Rice. 

One bright red label says  ** _Thai Curry - PEANUT FREE!! (HK SAFE)._**

"You have a peanut allergy?" Peter asks the other boy, who nods.

"Yeah," he says. "I didn't think he would remember."

Peter knows that's a lie, cause Tony remembers that kinda thing. He always does.

There's enough for a couple of weeks, at least.

"There is a bag of salad greens in the fridge," FRIDAY says, making both the boys jump. "Mr. Stark asked me to insist."

"Jesus," Harley whistles, low and sharp. "Is he trying to - oh my God, he is trying to make me eat my greens."

"It would seem so," FRIDAY agrees.

"FRIDAY," Peter has to ask because how could he not, "Did he make these?"

"Yes. Miss Potts assisted with the meal planning, while Mister Wilson was in charge of keeping to recommended nutritional guidelines for young adults. I request that you close the freezer door if you're done gaping at the contents."

Peter's heard a lot about the AI JARVIS. He can not imagine how JARVIS could have been more sassy than FRIDAY.

"Thanks FRI," he says, and looks up to find Harley staring at him.

"You must have done something," Harley says.

"I did not!"

"Well, it sure couldn't have been me, cause I was at work and this is the first time this week I made it home for a meal -"

Peter ignores the easily thrown home remark, because he knows how it feels. How it feels to be sucked into Tony Stark's orbit, for Tony to look at you, see something in you that you don't yet, pick you up and decide you are family. Peter knows what this is, because he is feeling the exact same thing.

"He caught 'Bules and I fighting over a cuppa soup at two in the morning."

"Ah."

"I didn't think he would do this!" Peter says. "He just told us to order in whatever we wanted."

"Wilson must have gotten to him about the processed sugar," Harley nods, peeking at the oven to check the state of their chicken parmesan. "Either Wilson or Cap."

"Cap's out on a mission."

"Wilson then," he straightens up and reaches for plates and bottles of water. "Well, what are you staring at me for? The oven's gonna be done soon. Get Nebula while I set everything up."

"I am afraid the salad is mandatory," FRIDAY reminds them. Peter smiles to himself as he walks away, hearing Harley negotiate with her against iceberg lettuce.

He doesn't think they're going to win this one, but that's okay.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this at eleven pm was a terrible idea, cause I am hungry now.
> 
> Spread love, y'all.


	8. Agent Morgan Stark of SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding a sitter in New York can be difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tooth rotting fluff y'all.  
> Also, a blink and you'll miss it reference to Daisy Johnson from AoS, and Clea Strange.

It's one of those rare, once in a blue moon things.

Pepper was supposed to stay home, but some idiot set something on fire - literally - in Marketing. Tony doesn't understand how one can have an emergency in Marketing, but as Pepper tells him nearly everyday, there are a lot of things about Stark Industries that Tony doesn't understand.

Anyway, Pepper was supposed to stay home.

Tony has a long-scheduled, and much awaited brain storming session with Michio Kaku at NYU. The good doctor is harder to get a hold of than Bruce when he is feeling down, so Tony cannot afford to cancel. Rhodey is on tour of duty. Sam has work at the VA. Peter is in school. Harley is at work. Clint and Nat are on a mission somewhere classified, and Steve and Barnes are on their not-a-honeymoon honeymoon roadtrip across the fifty states.

Tony is desperate at this point.

Finding a sitter in New York, like parenting, is not for the fainthearted.

He is out of all his options. He could break Dr. Kaku's heart and cancel, but - string theory and variations of the double slit experiment to change humanity's understanding of the natural world wait for no babysitter.

*  
He knocks on the door, Morgan balanced against one hip, her go-bag hanging off his forearm. She is taking in her new surroundings - modest apartment complex hallway, with nondescript doors, lining the walls at frequent intervals.

The door opens.

"Hello, Mr. Stark," the clear, calm voice of Agent Phil Coulson, recently undead, wearing his standard suit and tie, answers. "Hello, Miss Stark."

Morgan giggles, holding up one cute, small fist against her mouth. It's a new habit she's picked up from Jane Foster, who always smiles into a hand.

"Yeah, he means you," Tony tells her. "Thank you for doing this. I should be back by five."

"I always expected you to be the first to take my supernanny addiction seriously," Phil tells him, warm. The bastard. Tony's actually missed the stupid guy.

Phil reaches out and takes Morgan off Tony's hands. "Come in, Miss Stark. You can see how the other half lives."

She doesn't usually take to new people this quickly. But Coulson has always been the exception to every rule Tony's made in his life.

She gestures to be let down, so Phil sets her down gently. She turns around into the room to explore, but Tony kneels down and stops her for a hug.

"You be good for Agent, Morgoona," he tells her, kissing her forehead. "No fussing over lunch. You better eat all of it, okay? And don't make a mess."

"Got it daddy," she raises her fist for him to bump, just like Peter taught her. Tony tries to suppress the urge to wrap her up in his arms and go home. "You hawa good meeting."

"I will, munchkin."

He gets back upto his feet, and she turns around to explore Phil's living room.

"We will be fine, Mr. Stark," Coulson assures him. "I know how to handle a child. I have been handling Barton for years."

"You have a point," Tony nods. "It's just - it never gets easier."

Phil's eyes turn kind, like he understands. He probably does, too. Tony's heard things from Clint about a baby agent hacker Coulson got attached to.

"We will be right here when you get back, Stark," Coulson assures him. "She will be safe."

Tony knows that. He knows that Agent Coulson is probably the safest bet in the city right now.

"I know," he nods. "I am going now."

A beat. Two. "Are you aware you are still standing on my doorstep?"

"Yeah, yes, I am going now."

This time Coulson gives him a full minute before, "I am slamming the door in your face in ten seconds."

"Jeez, okay, bye, don't break my kid," he says, stepping away and activating the gauntlets on his wrists.

Now that child care is provided for, he might as well go do physics with smart people.

*  
When Tony gets back to pick up his child, the front door to the apartment is unlocked. He is gearing up to a massive rage about it - about how Agent leaves the front door unlocked while taking care of his fragile, vulnerable little child when he sees Clint standing just inside.

"Barton?"

"Shhhh!" the man hisses, violent and sudden, pressing Tony into the same, dark corner by the little closet for shoes. Why does Coulson have an entire closet for shoes? There are several things Tony wants to ask the man, right after why the hell are we spying on my daughter.

"Look!" Clint whispers, "just look there!"

Tony looks.

Coulson is sitting on one end of the long, three seater couch, his files and papers spread out on the coffee table. He's got a file in his lap, and he's writing with a red pen across it in neat writing as he is speaking into a phone. Beside him is Morgan, sitting in a pose exactly mirroring Coulson's, her three sheets of construction paper and crayons arranged similar to the way Coulson's papers are. She's got a red crayon in her hand, scribbing lines on the paper in her lap while she speaks quietly into an imaginary phone held to her ear.

Tony's heart is melting.

"She's become a little baby agent," Clint whispers, and Tony can SEE the heart eyes he is projecting at Coulson.

Coulson hangs up the phone, and sure enough, Morgan is done with her imaginary phone call right after. They both drop the phones on the coffee table in perfect sync.

"How was your call, Agent Stark?" Coulson asks her.

"Adequate," she says, spine perfectly straight, the very picture of poise. "How was your call, Agent Coulson?"

"Also adequate," he smiles. "Shall we call an official end to this op, as your father is here?"

Clint curses under his breath. Tony rolls his eyes. Did he really think Agent wasn't aware of their presence the moment they walked in?

Morgan, Tony is relieved to note, drops role playing secret ninja agent the moment he is mentioned and jumps up to greet him. Tony emerges from the shadow of the shoe closet, crouching down to pick her up off the floor and holding her close to his chest.

"How are you, Miss Morgoona? I missed you so much, did you have fun with Phil?"

"Yes daddy! I missed you too!"

He peppers kisses on her cheeks and forehead and the tip of her nose, as she wriggles and squeals in his arms. God, he's missed her. His little baby girl. He is never, ever leaving her and going anywhere. He's going to stay home and by her side from now till the rest of eternity, Sagan help him.

When he finally sets her down, Clint and Coulson are giving each other decidedly not-child friendly looks, so Tony decides to pack it out of there before things get beyond PG. He knows the effect the sight of a seemingly single man with a small child has on women and the occasional gay archer, and sighs.

"Say goodbye to Phil," he tells Morgan. "And mind your manners."

She steps up in front of Phil, as Tony packs her little backpack with the crayons and papers. Standing at ease, perfect military style with her hands behind her back, she looks up at Phil and says, "Thank you for taking care of me today, Agent Coulson." Tony is so proud, he could cry.

"You are welcome, Agent Stark. I look forward to repeating this op in the future."

And then, unprompted, she shoots off a picture perfect salute.

Tony curses the absence of Jarvis in the house to capture the moment. Blinking away the wetness in his eyes, he picks her up again, hoisting the backpack and turning toward the door.

"Seriously, thank you Phil," he tells the man when he is at the doorstep. "Thanks for doing this. I will take her home before she commits any further to the military industrial complex."

Leaving the two men to their sexual tension, he carries her down the stairs to where Happy is waiting with the car.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I am gonna be a shield agent when I grow up," she tells him. "Like Phil."

"This is just like when you wanted to be a sorceress like Miss Clea," he answers, trying not to laugh.

"Not until I am forty five?"

"Not until you are forty five."

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Dr. Michio Kaku ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michio_Kaku) is awesome.  
> Your comments keep me going!


	9. Monsters Under the Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Man, privatizing world peace and warding off monsters under the bed; ft Nebula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For WishingForMyHogwartsLetter who very succintly prompted "NEBULA"   
> I heard you.

Peter wakes to a heavy weight hitting his solar plexus with all the oomph factor of Daredevil on coke. (That had been a memorable night.)

"Ow! What are you - get off!" He pushes at the person sitting on his stomach. Jesus fucking Christ.

"You are taking up all the room," Nebula says nonchalantly, her blue face hovering somewhere over his head.

Peter had fallen asleep on the living room couch  _hardly an hour_ ago. This seems like cruel and unusual punishment.

"What the hell, Nebs?"

"You have a bedroom!" She retorts, doing her frowny angry face.

"So do you!"

She likes Tony's soft, plushy couch. Peter knows it's God's honest truth that she will never admit. They both love Tony's couch, and they would both pick the cottage's warm, cozy, perfectly decorated living room to fall asleep in than their bedrooms. Even if the bedrooms are seriously kick ass awesome. (Pepper bought him Spiderman themed bedsheets!) But he really loves this couch. He would be one with this couch if the universe let him.

God, he misses being an only child. Sort of-not really-alien sisters are the _fucking worst._

To stop her from prodding at his arm more than anything else, he sits up, adjusting the blanket over the both of them to try and get comfortable. She slaps his leg away when he tries to stretch out beside her, and he pinches her shoulder when she presses down on his ribs.

"Ow! Stay still!"

"You move! You have had the couch for long enough, Parker!"

"Jeez, okay, okay, stop! How about I go like this, and you can - yeah."

They manage to squeeze in, her sock clad feet on his chest, and his feet beside her head, both of them stretched out on the couch. God, this couch. Peter really wants to know where Pepper gets her furniture. Every inch is ergonomically perfect.

He's nearly dozed off again, when Nebula calls his name.

"Peter."

"Mmm."

"Peter Parker."

"Yeah! Yeah, I am awake, I am not asleep, its fucking three in the morning why would I be asleep -"

"Peter."

"For the love of God, what is it, Nebs?"

"Do you remember your parents?"

He shuts up. He shuts up right away, because yeah, Tony's maybe not the most forthcoming person about what exactly went down on Titan after Pete went dusty, but Peter can extrapolate. He's lived in close quarters with Nebs for a while now, and if nothing else, he is very familiar with people who's scars tinge with longing. Peter knows what it's like to wonder if the face you see in your dreams sometimes is the face of your mother, smiling at you.

"Not really," he answers around the lump in his throat. "They died when I was very little."

"Do you think they loved you?"

He swallows. "I know they did," he answers, but it sounds like he is repeating something somebody told him a while ago. He has no idea if it is true. He will never know for sure, with the certainty of other people that yes, his parents loved him. He never knew them. He has only the word of other people to go on. "My aunt and uncle told me all the time that they did."

"Is it possible - I saw on the CNN on the TV box - that sometimes parents don't."

"A lot of kids aren't as lucky, yeah," Peter agrees, unsure where this going, really, desperately wanting Tony in the room. Tony would know what to say. Peter's only ever seen Nebula smile when Tony's around. He's seen her lean, subtle and quiet, against Tony's side when they are in the workshop, always tentative, eyes wide, ready to flinch away at the barest hint of a rejection. The rejection never comes. Tony has a knack of getting her out of her head and drawing real smiles.

"So it's normal? Fathers who hurt? On earth."

"It's not normal, Bules," he answers because yeah, he thinks maybe he knows what this is about. "It's never normal. I don't know much about anthropology, but I understand evolution. The urge, the instinct to protect our young ones is coded into our genes. Being able to hurt your kids, hurt any kid - that's the aberration, not the norm."

"Why do they do it?"

"I don't know," Peter says honestly. "I wish I did. If I find out, I will tell you."

"Thank you, Peter Parker."

They stay silent for a while, but Peter can't fall back asleep. He is thinking. He is thinking hard. Sometimes, Peter thinks, the end that Thanos got was just too damn kind.

"Nebula," he says. "Are you alright?"

"I am operating under standard parameters."

"If you say so," he says, closing his eyes.

"If it's not the coalition of people designed to drive me mad," Tony says from the hallway, voice quiet and gentle. He is carrying Morgan against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "I can swear I built you people bedrooms. I remember addding those in the layout."

"Harley snores," Peter says without opening his eyes, pressing his forearm over them to try and go back to sleep.

"I built him a room too!"

Tony sits down on the armchair, adjusting Morgan on his lap, running a comforting hand down her back. She sniffles.

"It's okay, baby," he says soothingly. "No monsters here, see? Just Petey and Nebula. Right guys?"

"I can confirm that," Peter says, eyes still closed. "No monsters here. We checked, didn't we Nebs?"

For a moment, Peter thinks Nebula might take that sentence literally and explain that they did no such thing, but she catches on.

"There are no monsters," she says, matter of fact.

"Not here," Morgan sniffs, looking up at Tony. "Under my bed."

"Sweetheart," he says, sounding tired, "I promise, I sent away all the monsters. The monsters under your bed are all gone now."

"They'll come back!" she whines.

"No baby," Tony kisses the top of her head. "They're not going to do anything, love. I am leaving Iron Sentry there, right? The monsters are all scared of Iron Man."

That's when Peter opens his eyes to see the Iron Man armor standing beside the arm chair in sentry mode.

"You leave the armor in her room to scare away monsters?" he asks, incredulous. "Du-ude."

"Alright, peanut gallery, zip it," Tony snaps. He must be really exhausted. "Honeybun, come on, you gotta go to bed. There's no monsters. I am leaving Iron Man to protect you."

"Iron Man's here," she mumbles into his neck. "Don't wannarmor."

"What's that, baby?"

"Do't want armor," she repeats. "Iron Man's here." She pokes at his chest with a finger, sharp. Tony's face goes all soft and melty the way it does when Morgan smiles at him.

"Awwww," Peter can't help but go awwww. "You're right, Morgoona," he says, ignoring Tony's deathglare in his direction. "Iron Man's right here."

"Baby," Tony says, "I can't stay in your room with you all night. Come on, we had a deal."

"Daaaaaaaaaad," she whines. She's nearly perfected the whine into an artform.

"I am too tired for this at three am," he groans. "Okay, okay, come on, we're going to bed. Another night on your bedroom floor probably won't kill my back."

"You mean your iron back!"

"You know what, Parker," Tony growls at him. "See if I don't put Karen on lockdown!"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Go to bed, both of you!" Tony calls over his shoulder, hauling Morgan up closer and walking away.

Groaning, Peter sits up, stretching his arms above his head, yawning. Nebula is suspiciously quiet. She is still staring at the hallway through which Tony disappeared with Morgan.

Peter isn't the most sensitive of people, but even he can read the wistfulness on her face.

Yeah, Thanos got too kind a death, the son of a bitch.

"Bules?" he gently puts a hand on her shoulder. "Wanna go to bed?"

She looks away from the hallway, and something settles in her eyes. She visibly swallows, and then nods, looking away from him.

Peter makes up his mind.

"You know? Pepper's put in a bunk bed in my room," he tells her. "Harley is snoring away in the bottom bunk. Bet we can cuddle on top of him. You wanna?"

Her face does an expression, a glitch like she's seriously considering a smile, and she nods.

Sort of-not really-alien sisters, Peter thinks, are the _fucking best._

_~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanos sucks. 
> 
> If you think the Iron Extended Family hasn't called Nebula by every variation of a nickname possible, you're wrong. She's Bules, Nebs, Blue blue Bula, and according to Morgan Stark, she is also Princess Leia. Morgan is usally right about these things.
> 
> Comments and prompts are loved!


	10. My Iron Kids are upto No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper know their kids are up to no good. What they aren't sure about is whether they ought to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your sweet, joyful, enthusiastic prompts and comments on the last chapter. Your comments keep me going! And I am going to fulfill all your prompts! I promise!

The most important thing in parenting, Tony has learned, is knowing which battles to pick. It is even more important to not pick any battles until you have all the pertinent information.

This is pretty much the only reason he and Pepper pretend to not notice the repeated, sneaky little trips that Harley, Peter, Morgan and Nebula are making to the barn.

Pepper gives him a significant look when Nebula sneaks out with the leftover ham from the fridge. She is terrible at sneaking around, so both Pepper and Tony can see the ham shaped lump under her shirt when she walks too casually through the living room and out the door.

"I hope Harley isn't setting up a barbecue," Pepper whispers to him once the kid is out of earshot. "I can't imagine the fire department response time this far out."

The barn is filled with hay. She has a point.

"Might as well move Dummy and a couple of the extinguishers to the barn," he suggests, worried about the disappointed look SI's insurance lawyers will give him if he tells them he burned down _yet another house._

Pause. A beat of silence passes before Pepper says, "I was in your shop an hour back. The bots weren't there. I figured you sent them up to Morgan's room for play time."

Tony gets to his feet. His wayward children are up to no good, and they are getting upto no good WITH Tony's AI robots. He needs to figure out what's going on before someone gets hurt.

"FRI," he calls. "Helicopter Parenting Ban Protocol override, code _Tony-I-am-your-fucking-dad-Stark-zero-nine-one-two_. What are my kids up to?"

"Override denied," FRI says, her tone too casual for it to not get on Tony's every last nerve.

"Can she do that?" Pepper asks him, taking a sip of her tea. "I thought she couldn't do that. You said the helicopter parenting protocol -"

"She cannot do that," he nods, because what the actual hell. "FRI, throw up a screen. Give me root access."

"Tony, the barn," Pep reminds him before he drowns down the code mine.

"Oh, it will keep for a few minutes," he answers, finding the right section of FRIDAY's programming. "They'll all skedaddle if one of us goes down there anyway. Let me track down what's compromising FRIDAY first."

"I am not compromised, boss," FRIDAY tells him. "I am following my code parameters, as directed."

"Yeah, only, you're not," he mutters, scrolling down the lines of blue. "I designed helicopter parenting ban and left a backdoor - son of a bitch!"

Pepper frowns disapprovingly. "Language, honey," she reminds him. The last thing they want is Morgan and another 'shit' incident. His back still hurts from how long he spent on the couch after that memorable day.

"Oh, I am going to kill him! I am going to fucking kill him! His red and blue spidey ass is so grounded they're going to dig him out of his bedroom when I am done with him," he mutters, staring at the screen in disbelief.

"So, Peter and not Harley, huh?" she says, and yep, she is definitely laughing at him.

"The little brat hacked into my code," he mutters. "Hacked in, overrode my protocols, and holy fuck, is this a new subroutine? Fuck - FRIDAY, I sure as hell didn't write in this nice little sequence here telling you to ignore the number of hours after curfew Mr. Spiderman spends as a friendly neighborhood spiderling."

"Unable to recognize subroutine origin, boss," FRIDAY says, and yep, now she sounds impressed. Nobody messes around in her code.

"Of course you aren't," he mutters, mass deleting entire sections of the little script, and fixing the edges. "He's good. I am torn between pride and rage. Yup, it's definitely fifty-fifty right now."

"More like ninety-ten," Pepper laughs, handing him another mug of tea. "Admit it, honey. You are grinning because your kid is brilliant."

"I am grinning because I am imagining the look on his face when I ground his spider ass all the way through his midterms."

"Do you have to? May and I made plans to take the kids out for sundaes after," she tells him, entirely unconcerned about this breakdown in discipline.

"Pep! He's - he hacked my programming!"

"What I am hearing is that this is an engineering pissing contest," she sashays away from him, tying her loose hair in a bun.

"You are hearing the wrong thing, you do this all the time, you're hearing the wrong thing entirely," he gestures back at her. "The little brat!" He stares at the second subroutine that just blinked into existence even after he deleted it. "What the hell? FRI, how is he doing this?"

"I believe Miss Shuri might have helped," FRIDAY informs them.

"Now, that's just cheating," he grits out, trying to parse through the complicated defense Peter's built up around - oh no.

A video starts playing. Peter's face fills the screen.

"If you're watching this," the little shit grins at them from the screen, "it means you found what I inserted into the Helicopter Parenting Ban override. I want to remind you of two things, Mr. Stark. One, if you want to use the override, you might consider just walking up to one of us and asking us what we're doing. And two, you're not actually mad at me right now, you're kinda really proud. Three, if I ask really nicely, will you teach me how you wrote the cascading reasoning matrix code in the last section, cause I am not able to break through that bit. Bye!"

Pepper is laughing into her palm. Tony turns around to glare at her. "The little shit!"

She comes up behind him, and puts her hands around his waist, "They have your number pretty good."

*

He stops Harley when the kid tries to carry out an entire pitcher of water behind his back.

(He really needs to teach his children some subtlety.)

"Okay," he says, deciding to do the adult, mature and responsible thing, "I am going to ask this once. Whatever it is you're up to out there - is it dangerous, and/or likely to get someone hurt?"

Harley looks like a deer caught in headlights momentarily.

"Kid," Tony sighs. "You guys are really not good at sneaking around. We're on to you."

"Right," Harley swallows. "Right."

"So?"

"Right," he nods. "Nothing dangerous, and nobody's going to get hurt."

"You're sure?"

Another jerky nod.

"I want your word that you will tell AN ADULT if that changes," he orders in the best Cap-replica voice he can manage, "Capiche?"

The kid nods vigorously.

"Why take the bots?"

"They were - um - excited to be involved."

Tony can't even BEGIN to contemplate all the likely scenarios that could entail.

"You know what? I don't wanna know."

*

It's not that hard to keep track of the stuff that seems to be leaving the house.

The portable heater, pitchers of water, ham and bacon, and an entire loaf of bread have all gone missing. Both of Tony's thick, plushy towels, several wipe cloths from his workshop and a couple of his discarded engineering blueprints are making conspicuous holes among the scattered piles of his shop. The linen closet upstairs is practically empty, so Pepper has her own suspicious about a blanket fort surrounding all the hay.

Neither of them have seen hide nor hair of Morgan or Peter, who probably knows better than to be caught by Tony today. Pepper also reports a couple of wide, soup bowls going missing.

"Are they eating out there?"

"I am not asking," Tony mutters, bent over schematics for SI. "I am really not going to ask."

"I know we agreed," Pepper says, bent over on the floor where she's doing her morning yoga, "but I admit I am curious."

Around noon, Harley and Morgan come back inside and go straight to the kitchen.

"Not even a kiss for your daddy?" Tony asks Morgan. "I see how it is. You see a cute boy and suddenly you're too good for your old man."

He thoroughly enjoys the synchronous 'ewwwww!' he gets in response from both Morgan and Harley.

He sees them fill a basket with the remaining loaf of bread, butter, cheese, carrot sticks, peanut butter, some more ham, the mayo jar and an entire gallon milk.

"We're having lunch outside! Bye!" Harley calls over his shoulder even as Morgan struggles to carry the gallon of milk.

"Not so fast, Lewis and Clark!" Tony yells after them, making them stop in their tracks. "You're going to have milk for lunch?" he asks, failing to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Yes," they both answer together, nodding.

"You are _voluntarily_ drinking milk?" he asks again.

"Yes," they both nod again, like he is being particularly dim.

"Morgoona," he pinches the bridge of his nose, because this is getting ridiculous, "I usually have to force feed milk down a tube to get you to drink it. Every day since you learned to talk, all I have heard is ' _milk is yucky daddy_ '. And now you're disappearing with the rebel alliance to star in a Got Milk commercial?"

She stares at him blankly, which, fine, he grants her that. She stares at him and then she looks up at Harley, waiting for her big brother to do his thing, because she is done here.

"She likes milk now," Harley tells him with an expression on his face like he is entirely aware how silly he sounds.

"Okay," Tony nods. "Okay, you know what, okay." He shakes his head, resigning himself to this. "Don't put the knife from the peanut butter jar in the mayo, Harls," he tells them. "Remember your allergy, yeah?"

The kid has the nerve to roll his eyes at him. Yeah pal, we've only reached for the Epi pen two times this past year cause you didn't wanna say no to Morgan and her waving snickers bar.

"Yes, DAD," Harley says, putting as much teenage self righteousness as possible into the last word.

Tony waves them away, resigned to his lot in life.

  
*

Around six in the evening, Peter pokes his head through the workshop door.

Tony looks up from the code of the Helicopter Parent Ban protocol.

"Still can't break through, huh?" Peter grins.

Tony throws a spanner at his retreating head.

*

  
It storms that night.

The rain is heavy, the weather chilly and cold. Tony gets the fire going in the living room. He got Morgan down a couple of hours ago after scrubbing her down in the bath to get rid of about a truck full of mud she tracked along with her. Peter and Harley are both in bed (if they know what's good for them), and he just settled Nebula in her new room by making her think it will make him happy if she takes the room. Tony is too into this parenting thing to feel guilty about emotional manipulation NOW.

He hands Pepper her wine glass, and settles beside her.

"So," he leans in for a kiss, "date night?"

"Date night," she smiles against his lips.

"Is it too late?" he teases. "Has our relationship become just about the kids?"

She laughs, full bodied and shaking, and leans against his chest.

"Oh yeah," she laughs. "The spark's gone out of this relationship."

"You know how we can fix that? We should have another kid."

She stares up at him, eyes dancing with joy.

"Is this the time when I sit up and both of us have a Serious Conversation?" she asks him, still smiling, head against his chest, staring up at him.

There's a loud, alarming thud coming from the back door.

"Hold that thought," he tells her, kissing her on the forehead and getting up off the couch.

She follows him into the kitchen where they see the backdoor ajar against the pouring rain.

Cursing under his breath, he calls for FRIDAY. "FRI, perimeter breach?"

"Perimeter secure," she assures him. "There are no intruders."

He hears Pepper's sigh of relief.

"That means we've got baby Slytherins on the loose," Pepper tells him, stating the obvious. "How much do you wanna bet none of them are wearing jackets in this mess?"

"Ten bucks says Peter's got Morgan tucked into his hoodie," Tony rummages through the kitchen drawer for a flashlight. "Oh screw it," he curses. "Where does the flashlight even - why do we have flashlights, we never find the damn things -"

"Um, Iron Man?" Pepper is laughing at him now, her quiet, tugging on the corner of her lips laugh. "Are you waiting around for a flashlight?"

"Damn, I married the smartest woman in the world," he smiles, and activates the wrist bands, summoning Rescue as well. Metal surrounds them both, warm and cozy and inviting. They set off outside, practically floating through the downpour to the barn.

The wooden door is hanging off the hinges. Tony's been meaning to fix that, but never got around to doing it.

"Tony," Pepper says from beside him, "the HUD is showing four heat signatures that shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, I am getting that too."

He raps on the door with a gauntleted fist. "Incoming!" he calls. The plethora of voices quiet down instantly. Uh-oh.

"Okay," he says, going inside and holding the door for Iron Rescue. "What is going on -"

Tony had a worst case scenario in his head for this particular situation, but it isn't even in the same territory as what he sees.

Peter is on the floor of the barn with Morgan in his lap (tucked into his hoodie, yay Tony!). The flashlights are all arranged on the floor beside them, illuminating a single spot ahead. In front of them is a gigantic nest with blankets and sheets, the cozy spot kept warm by the portable space heater beside it. Harley and Nebula are seated beside this spot, both of them frozen, Harley's expression resigned, while Nebula looks terrified. Dummy, U and Butterfingers are holding large electric lamps in their claws, illuminating the entire space. Between all of them, in the middle of the blanket-draped warm spot is the picnic basket that disappeared during lunch. In the basket, running excitedly are two golden retriever puppies.

Now that Tony's looking properly, he sees another puppy hiding behind Nebula's back. Peter is unsuccessfully trying to hide the mother of the litter behind him.

Tony sees Pepper put one gauntleted to her forehead, in an expression that's very familiar to him.

"Puppies?"

"Puppies," Peter nods.

"Oh god," Tony groans, stepping out of the armor, just as Pepper does too. "How many?"

"Three," Nebula answers, standing up, taking the little runt in her hands and holding it close to her chest. She looks.. vulnerable, like she is afraid to ask him for anything, but making up her mind to ask anyway. If the situation were any different, he would be so proud of her. Hell, he IS proud of her.

"Guys," he pinches the bridge of his nose, completely aware where this is going.

"Daddy, mommy, come meet Leia," Morgan tells him from Peter's hoodie. _Oh damn it_ , she named the damn things. "This is Han," she points at the other one. "And the one Nebs' got is Steve."

Steve? Oh, he's the runt of the litter. _Nice_. Never go amiss with the Cap comics for bedtime stories.

"The mommy doggie is Gamorra," Morgan says, clearly indicating Nebula's hand in the naming process. "She came to the barn, daddy. And now all the puppies are scared of the thunder."

Right on cue, thunder cracks loudly through the silence of the farm around them, and the puppies in the basket go beserk, ducking into Morgan's lap and another one trying to climb Harley. Tony sees the large charts and blueprints from his workshop forming the blanket on which the mother dog is asleep. His plush towels are being used to clean up the space.  _Ugh,_ he liked those towels.

Peter unfastens himself out of the hoodie, letting the fabric swathe around Morgan and the whimpering little creature. The effect makes her look smaller and more adorable.

Yeah, I see what you're doing, Parker.

"Okay," Pepper says, taking over. "Let's be practical here, guys. We cannot - and I mean it, we cannot take care of four dogs."

Peter nudges Morgan forward, and dutifully, she steps up and turns huge, watery eyes toward Pepper.

"Nice try," Pepper huffs. "That doesn't work on me, Parker."

Without missing a beat, all four of them turn watery, gigantic eyes to Tony. _Oh crap_.

The grand total of the number of things that Tony has so far denied his daughter is a whopping zero. All four of them are aware of this fact.

"Don't you dare, Stark," Pepper mutters at him. "Don't you dare undermine me-"

"Mama," Morgan is pulling out all the stops. She hasn't called Pepper mama in six _months_. "Mama, they will be cold and wet and their booties will be muddy -"

Nebula looks like she wants to know if puppies wear boots. The expression on her face is adorable.

"- where will they go, mama, please can they come stay in my room?"

"Please Tony," Harley speaks up. At least they are strategizing. Using Morgan's adorableness factor paired with a reasonably adult sounding voice to lull the parental unit into a false sense of security. Tony doesn't give the kids enough credit sometimes. "We promise to take care of them. We'll feed them and clean up after them. Peter and I can drive now. We can take them to vet appointments."

Tony is breaking. He knows he is. When he was a kid, he wanted a dog. Howard had never allowed it, of course, but sometimes, Jarvis would sneak him out to his home and let him play with their little husky. Looking back, those are among his favorite childhood memories.

"It's just a few puppies and a dog," Peter chimes in. "How much trouble can they be? God's sake, you're Iron Man, and Pepper practically runs the world anyway."

Flattery. _Nice_.

The little shits planned this.

Pepper starts looking resigned. They both know they're going to give in.

Nebula steps forward, holding an interested looking little pup that's trying to climb up to her shoulders. She looks right at Tony, catching his eye, and says earnestly, "I have never had a pet."

_Damn it._

Goddamn everything to hell.

He looks at Pepper, and they have one of their quiet parenting conversations using eyebrows. She nods.

"Fine," he says. "Fine." He calls over the celebratory cheers and high fives in the barn. "Listen up! There are rules!"

The four of them put on their listening faces on, spine straight and looking ready to agree to anything as long as they can keep their dogs.

"The little monsters aren't allowed on any of the furniture," Pepper tells them. "No beds, no couches, chairs, and definitely not the kitchen counter."

"No workshop access," Tony orders. "Absolutely no workshop access. And if I find doggie drool on any of my shoes, I am banishing the culprit back to this barn."

They all nod, eyes wide and expressions solemn.

"I don't care how you divvy up who cares for whom," Pepper says. "You feed them, you bath them, you walk them, you pick up after them."

Four heads nod in sync.

Tony points at Harley. "You can take the car tomorrow morning and arrange for dog beds and vet appointments and all that responsible adult stuff."

"I will help!" Peter chimes in, looking so cheerful it hurts Tony to just look at him.

Tony shakes his head, and exchanges a long look with Pepper.

_Can you believe they did this?_

_Are you really surprised?_

_We broke pretty quickly._

_Are we terrible parents?_

_Probably, yes._

_Do you regret it?_

_Not really._

Resigning themselves to their fate, Pepper and Tony start to herd the gang out of the cold barn and into the house, trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements for their new guests. It's going to be a long night.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, it was always going to be puppies. 
> 
> Yup, Tony and Pepper were always going to give in. 
> 
> Leave your comments and prompts! I love all of you!


	11. The Not-So-Fun parts of Iron Parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ashley09 who prompted - Can you do times when Tony's had to punish or yell at his kids and then felt terrible about it, even though he is doing it for their own good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look y'all: my fluffy story now has a chapter that needs warnings:
> 
> One mention of a derogatory slur for a gay man. Hurt/comfort. And teenagers making really poor life choices, along with references to past occasions where Tony made poor life choices.  
> Please drop me a line in the comments if you need more information and I will be happy to give you more details.
> 
> As always, **this is a happy fic and everything turns out fine, but there's a little bit of crying and angst before we get there**.

Peter practically floats all the way home from school. 

He aced all his finals, Flash got busted by Principal Morita sneaking around outside class, and Ned’s got a great new lego project. Just to make this day even better, he’s going over to the cottage later to play with his brand new dog (Gamorra is queen bee of the dog world, and she _knows_ it). 

Life is good.

Peter really should have known better.

When he walks in, May is sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, and right beside her is - yup. 

“Oh God,” Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really should have known better. “What did I do?” he asks Tony.

“Take a seat, Pete,” May says, getting up to refill her wine glass. The bottle is nearly half empty on the coffee table, which means Tony’s been here a while.

Dropping his backpack on the floor, he settles in the lone armchair, facing the two of them. He can’t remember any rules he broke recently. Well. He hacked FRIDAY and secretly kept a litter of dogs in the barn, but he is pretty sure Tony isn’t mad about that.

“You aren’t actually mad about the hacking, are you?” he tries. Tony only grins at him like he’s got a particularly evil plan up his sleeve. It would be disconcerting if it weren’t his most frequent grin.

“Pete,” May starts, and damn it, she looks like she’s going to cry, “have you been staying out as spiderman when I thought you were safe in bed?”

Oh. Crap. 

Peter looks at Tony. 

“You found it,” he nods, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“It was good work,” Tony concedes. “Even if it was amateurish in places. You got cocky with the Helicopter Parenting protocol, and once I went looking, the rest was easy to find.”

Peter nods. “May, listen -”

“No, you listen!” she stands up, putting her hands on her hips. “I have let this - this _insanity_ continue -”

“Against your better judgement,” Tony prompts her because he is an ass, and also because this speech from May is usually directed at _him_ instead of Peter. 

“- against my better judgement,” she agrees, gesturing at Tony, “because I trusted that a responsible adult -” Peter scoffs, “- had your back. But if you’ve been out swinging from rooftops without backup -”

“I had backup!”

“I was backup,” Tony interjects, “and I was asleep, believing that you were too!”

“Tony,” Peter starts, but sees the look on Tony’s face and shuts up.

Shit. They’re both _really mad._

“I just thought -”

“Oh, so there was thinking involved?” Tony snaps. “That’s news to me, Pete.”

“I don’t need as much sleep as other people,” he defends. “And if I can help even one more person, I think it’s my responsibility to do it!” 

May deflates. She just deflates, and collapses back on the couch, looking at him.

“It’s not that we’re not proud of you, sweetheart,” she tells him, eyes watery. “I am so, so proud of you. I know Tony is too. Just like I know Ben would have been.”

It is a pipe dream to hope that Tony would get distracted by sincere good intentions.

“Nonetheless, if you can’t respect the systems I set up to protect you,” Tony says, and he is using his _listen up cause I am 100% done with you right now_ voice, “then I am going to recommend to May that she reconsider letting you do this.”

“Hey now -”

“And if you insist on doing this anyway,” Tony continues like he didn’t hear Peter’s interruption, “you will have me to answer to.”

Yup. That’s the voice of a man who told Thanos to go screw himself and lived to tell the tale.

“I -” Tony’s voice gets softer now. “I have - I lost you once already. If you think I brought you back after Thanos and a genocide to lose you to a mugging gone wrong just cause you didn’t have backup - well, think again, buster.”

Shame crawls up his skin, tight against his flesh like a vice, ready to choke him. Tony’s face on Titan, with the taste of dust up his throat, holding on to him for dear life - Peter will remember Tony’s face for the rest of his life. He feels like something that’s stuck to the bottom of a shoe. He is vilest of the vile for doing this. For making Tony feel like this. 

“I am sorry,” he breaks. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have - I didn’t - I didn’t know what I thought.”

“You weren’t thinking,” Tony is saying softly, and yup, Peter can confirm that is worse, Tony being gently disappointed is _worse_ than him yelling, “cause if you had thought for a second, you would have known to just come to one of us for a later curfew!”

“Yeah.”

“Peter,” May says. “I have been nothing but supportive.”

“Yeah.”

“And I am the last person who’s going to stand in the way of some good, old fashioned vigilantism,” Tony smiles, eyes warm now, like he is already regretting making Peter feel sad.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I am sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“I want you to apologize to both Karen and FRIDAY?” May looks at Tony for confirmation, and he nods. “Yes, FRIDAY.”

“I already did,” Peter says now, eager to tell them how ready he is for penance, to make this right, “FRIDAY was really mad, but I really meant the apology. I think we’re good now. Sort of.”

“You are also grounded for the next forty two days,” May continues, sitting back against the couch.

That’s an oddly specific number.

“It’s the number of days you were out past curfew and let me think you were in bed,” Tony explains.

The grounding is going to suck, but by all standards, Peter’s getting off easy. He nods at them, indicating his acceptance.

“Yes, yes, I am sorry, okay, grounded - yes,” he mutters. 

Tony and May exchange a significant look.

“Oh, there’s more? There’s more,” Peter says. _Crap._

“Like you pointed out,” Tony says, opening the briefcase at his feet and pulling out a thick, bound book, “you don’t need as much sleep as the average person. You can spend all the free time in your room working on this.” He hands Peter the book. 

A THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK FOR AN OPERATIONAL, MULTI-TIER, CASCADE RATIONAL ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE

_Anthony E Stark_

“Holy crap,” Peter says, touching the fly leaf reverently. “Is this your doctoral thesis?”

The MIT logo is at the bottom.

“It’s one of several, discarded theses that I didn’t continue during my Ph.D,” Tony explains.

Peter is skimming the abstract. _Holy fuck._ This is seriously advanced stuff. He looks up, something that Tony said strikes him as odd -

“You didn’t continue in your Ph.D? What does that mean?”

“I came up with several potential ideas during my undergrad program,” Tony explains. “Obviously, I didn’t have time to pursue or publish all of them during my doctorate.”

“Don’t you have seven doctorates or something?”

“Yes,” Tony nods, “and this one wasn’t part of any of those doctorates.”

Peter flips through the pages. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yes?” Tony drags out the syllable, like he is enjoying himself immensely.

Peter looks up at him, because _what the fuck._

“You discontinued this because you figured it out already, didn’t you?” he asks. “This is how you built JARVIS.”

Tony smiles at him and then turns to May. “Told you he would get it.”

May looks like she is barely suppressing the urge to come up and ruffle his hair.

“Didn’t raise any dumb ones,” she says into her whine glass.

“If I finished the theory and published it,” he explains, “it would no longer be proprietary. At the time, the MIT policy was to keep student theses open source. JARVIS was a personal project,” he swallows. “Well, he was. Someday, I will -” he clears his throat. “Someday, I will tell you about him. But mostly, I just wanted to see if I could build an AI.”

“Why are you giving this to me?”

"You’re barely challenged at that school,” Tony points at him with a finger. “Your hacking was good work, but it can be better. You didn’t understand the underlying framework of the code. You skimmed and slashed and cut wherever you could, but it lacked elegance. Elegance comes from understanding. From that.” He points at the book.

“You want me,” Peter tries again, because this is ridiculous, “as part of my punishment,” he continues, “for hacking into your AI,” he nods, “to learn to build a better AI?”

“Yes,” Tony leans back, putting his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You hacked my AI. Now go build one that even _I_ can’t hack.”

Peter gapes at him. 

“It’s not easy,” Tony waves a hand. “There are maybe two other people on the planet who can do it. I would get started if I were you.”

Deep breaths, Peter.

One of the consequences of hanging out with Tony all the time, is that you forget how much smarter than the rest of the planet Tony actually is. Once you have seen him try to make a smoothie without the blender lid on, it’s hard to also remember that he’s single handedly made most consumer technology of the last decade obsolete. 

Damn.

Peter knows at least five people at school who’d kill to be handed Tony Stark’s early research.

“I can’t do it alone,” Peter admits, because he is smart, not delusional. “I am not you. I will need help.”

“Which is why you’re going to spend three evenings a week in my lab, working on that,” he points at the book again, lying on Peter’s lap like a religious talisman, “and checking in with me to make sure you’re on the right track.”

Peter looks at May questioningly.

“Hey,” she tells him, “any time you’re not jumping off buildings or stopping criminals with guns, I am fine with it. And Tony _is_ right about that school.”

“I am right about everything, but you get her point,” Tony gestures at her. “You alright, Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods slowly. “Yeah. I am thrilled, actually. This is incredible, Mr. Stark. Holy fuck, I am going to have so much fun!” He catches the look on Tony’s face. “I mean, I am deeply regretful of my actions,” he corrects. “So regretful. Like, I can’t tell you how regretful. I am going to go to my room and think about my actions while reading this - yup, gonna go do some regretting -”

Tony laughs. “Don’t hurt yourself, kid. Put the book away long enough to eat dinner with us. Pepper should be here soon.”

Peter puts the bound book in his backpack reluctantly. 

Wait till he tells Ned he’s got Tony Stark’s almost MIT thesis in his hands.

*

Sarah calls Tony on a Saturday evening.

Usually, they have a Tuesday evening weekly standing phone appointment. 

Sarah drives to her night MBA class every Tuesday, and uses the drive to catch up with Tony about the shit her son is up to in New York.

So getting a call on a Saturday is a surprise.

“Sarah?” he answers. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she sounds like she is crying. “No, no, Tony it’s not. I don’t -”

“Hey, hey,” he says. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong. Is it Harley? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know where Harley is - Tony! He came back!”

“Who came back?”

 _Stupid question._ The guy. The father. Whats-his-face no-name.

“Isn’t Harley at your sister’s this weekend? Tony asks, ‘cause that was the plan. The kid had complained about having to hang out with aunt Sally for all of last week.

“Yeah,” she sobs. “And Paul showed up here, said he wanted to talk to Harley alone, and obviously, Harls shut the door in his face. But Paul wouldn’t leave. He made a scene, and they both yelled, and Harls got mad and took the car! I waited him out for a couple of hours, but now I am getting worried.”

“Did you call -”

“Yeah, and he is not picking up. I have been trying every few minutes.”

“Okay,” Tony nods, activating the bands at his wrist. “Are you okay? Are you safe? Is your sister -”

“Yeah, we’re all fine,” she explains. “Sally called the cops, and they made him leave. But Harley isn’t picking up the phone. Tony, I don’t want him driving when he is this upset.”

“I get it,” Tony answers. “He’s a good kid. I am going to go find him, okay? Just hang tight. If he comes back home meanwhile, give me a call to let me know, okay?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I have ways of tracking his phone,” he explains. “And if he’s turned it off, I can still find him. Stay inside. Let me take care of this, okay? I promise I will call you back with an update.”

“Thank you, Tony, oh God, thank you.”

“I will speak to you soon.”

Tony drops the phone just as the armor surrounds him. Yeah, it’s time to go get his kid.

*

It takes Tony an embarrassing forty five minutes to determine the kid’s location.

Once he’s triangulated the coordinates, it takes him another hour in the armor to find the car speeding down the freeway in the middle of nowhere, Alabama. Tony can compute, down to the fourth decimal, the speed at which the kid’s gotta have been going to get across the state line so quickly, and the number makes him exactly zero percent thrilled. 

Once he’s flying over the freeway with the car in his sight, he makes FRIDAY override the phone to automatically accept the call.

“Harley,” he barks. “Pull over. Right now.”

“Leave me alone, Tony,” he slurring. Harley is fucking slurring. He’s got no business being behind the wheel of a vehicle right now.

“Harley Keener, pull over right now, or I swear to God -”

The car slows down and gently pulls over to the side. Tony lands in front of it, and quickly wrenches open the driver side door. 

Harley looks terrible. His eyes are bloodshot, red rimmed and tired. His pupils are wide, the blue irises thin. The kid needs help.

Harley looks at him, expression fear stricken, heart broken, before he crumples, crying into his hand.

“Come on, son,” Tony gets on his knees in the armor, pulling Harley out of the car but the seat belt gets jacked. “Okay, okay, hang on, I will get this free.” 

One twist and tug with the gauntlet, and the belt snaps. The instant he is free, Harley throws himself against the armor, arms around the neck.

“Yeah, I got you, I got you, kid, shhh,” he brings one red hand to the kid’s hair, “Shh, you’re okay, everything’s okay.”

The kid sobs against his shoulder, and Tony lets him, lets him get it all out.

“I know buddy,” he says. “I know. You’re okay, now. I am right here. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

When the sobbing subsides, he brings himself to ask, “You think you’re going to be okay to hang on to me for a ride back home?”

The kid shakes his head, eyes wide and terrified. Tony understands.

“No, not your aunt Sally’s,” he clarifies. “Home. The cottage, buddy. Or we can go to the tower, I guess.”

A beat of silence. “Cot - cottage,” the kid manages to say. 

“You got it,” Tony kisses his hair. “Come on, hang tight. It’s going to be a short, bumpy ride.”

*

He decides to leave the car there, on the side of the freeway. He calls Pepper first, cause he’s learned from painful experience that you always, _always_ call Pepper first, and also because Pepper can wake an SI employee who’s in the vicinity to get the car before it becomes an issue on the side of the freeway. Then, he calls Sarah. Harley falls asleep just as they’re crossing into Pennsylvania, so he keeps the call as quiet as he can. 

“He’s okay,” Tony tells her, practically _feeling_ the sigh of relief she lets out.

“Oh thank God, thank you, thank you,” she exclaims. 

“Yeah,” Tony agrees _fervently._ “Yeah.”

“How was -”

“Not good,” he answers. “He was a mess. He _is_ a mess. I don’t think he wants to face you just yet, so I am taking him back to the cottage.” It occurs to him _now_ to ask. “I hope that’s okay.”

She laughs; a wretched sound: half sob, half chuckle.

“Tony,” she is definitely crying now. “There’s nobody else on the _planet_ I’d trust with my Harls.”

After Paul what’s-his-face, Tony’s had a firsthand look into Sarah’s many trust issues. He is also painfully aware of the issues that have passed on to the precious boy in Tony’s arms.

He knows what it means to have Sarah’s trust. He doesn’t take it for granted.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’ll put him to bed, and talk to him in the morning.”

“Just because we’re relieved, don’t go easy on him.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to,” he reassures her. “I won’t go easy on him. I’m guessing that’s okay too?”

“Blanket permission, Tony,” she reminds him. “I’ve told you before. You can lay down the law and make it stick. Hell, he’s listened to you more than he’s ever listened to me.”

“A fact you haven’t exactly been shy about exploiting.”

“Hey, I am a single parent,” she laughs. “I take every advantage I can get.”

“Thanks Sarah,” he says, grateful. “I’ll make him call you tomorrow.”

“Tear him a new one.”

“I will. Good night.”

*

Tony waits for the kid to come to him.

He did the responsible parent thing. He put him to bed, left a glass of water and a note beside him. He put a plate of food in the oven. He made FRIDAY keep watch. 

Now, it’s a waiting game.

Harley knows what’s going for him, so he doesn’t keep Tony waiting long.

Freshly showered, wearing one of Tony’s MIT hoodies, he makes his way to the workshop around one in the afternoon.

“Hello,” Tony calls. “Found your way down here, did you? All on your own? And you didn’t even need a car this time.”

The kid goes red, but he doesn’t look away. Tony’s always liked that about him. He owns up to his mistakes.

“I am sorry,” Harley tells him, still meeting Tony’s eyes, spine straight.

“Just so there’s no confusion,” he comes around the workbench, setting his tools down, “what are you sorry for?”

“For worrying you,” Harley answers. “For taking the car without asking. For making a scene.”

Tony looks at him. Just looks at his kid. This kid that he came so close to losing. He resists the urge to not reach out and hug him.

 _No._ He can do this.

“First,” he starts, counting off on his fingers, “if you had come home straight from that and slept on my couch, I would have still been worried. Second, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the car. And third, if I had been there, I would have made a bigger scene. Zero for three. You’re terrible at this.”

The kid looks confused, like he’s missed a step and needs to backtrack.

“I am not sure - look, can’t I just be sorry anyway?”

“Sit down, Harley,” Tony nudges at the couch in the corner. Comfortable, plushy, and big, it is one of Pepper’s best finds. Tony’s had it for years. 

The kid looks disproportionately small sitting on it.

“Where did you go from Sally’s place?”

Harley’s eyes widen. He looks up at Tony, and suddenly, the pieces fall into place. 

“It wasn’t - I just needed to forget -”

“Keener, don’t bullshit me -”

“I went to see Michelle,” he admits. “We just - Tony, it’s not like -”

“When I pulled you out of that car,” Tony grits his teeth, “I could smell the beer on your breath.”

“I had one,” Harley says, face red, eyes teary. “Just one. Michelle just held me for a while, and we - yeah, I had a drink.”

“You were upset, you left nobody any way of finding you, you went to see your _irresponsible girlfriend_ , which is an argument for another day, I guess, but here's the clincher - you got behind the wheel of a car after drinking.”

“It was one beer!”

“I don’t give a fuck it was one beer,” Tony is yelling now. “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!”

The kid shrinks back into the couch cushions, and flinches. Tony pushes on, because he won’t let that flinch haunt him for the rest of his life. He is doing the right thing.

“You should have known better, goddamn it Harley!” 

The kid’s crying now.

“You could have really hurt someone,” Tony grits out through clenched teeth. “And worse, you could have gotten hurt! Did you think about that? Did you think about your mother getting _that_ phone call? I _know_   firsthand how much it sucks to get that phone call!”

Harley flinches again. Howard and Maria Stark had died in a car crash. 

"I cannot believe how reckless and irresponsible you were!"

“You should have known better!” Tony rolls on, as Harley shrinks further into himself, his shoulders somewhere up at his ears. “You should have known better! How could you do this, ridiculous, idiotic thing?”

Just quiet sobbing.

“I would like an answer.”

“I am sorry - hic - I was upset - I didn’t - hic - think, I am so sorry!”

“Kid,” Tony takes three deep breaths. He counts them down in his head, takes another breath and then comes forward, getting on his knees before Harley in front of the couch. “Kid. Look at me.”

“I am really sorry,” he is wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to! I just - hate him! I hated him my entire life and he showed up -”

“Yeah.”

“And he said - he - doesn’t matter what he said -”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know what to do so I left, I ran, and you never run, you taught me that, and I am so sorry!” Harley looks away from his sleeve and at Tony’s face. “Please don’t be disappointed in me!”

Tony’s not a monster. He probably is a terrible parent, but he is _not_ a goddamn monster. He won’t repeat Howard Stark’s mistakes.

“Come here,” he opens his arms, and Harley falls into them, like he’s been waiting all this goddamn while for the invitation. How’s Tony supposed to teach this kid that he’s always welcome, that he can just plant himself and stay in Tony’s arms for as long as he wants; and even if he left, the hug will be here, waiting for him.

“I AM sorry.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“I hate him!”

“I know.”

When Harley quiets down, Tony settles him back on the couch and reaches into the mini fridge for a bottle of water.

“Drink,” he pushes. “Nuh-uh, the full thing, come on. Slowly. Yeah, there you go. Scoot over, lemme sit, yeah. Feeling better?”

Harley nods.

“Okay,” Tony sits up, cross legged, sideways on the couch so he can look at Harley. “I could _never, ever_ be so disappointed in you. Am I angry? Yes. But you know what? I’ll get over it. Oh no, this is serious talk time, look at me.”

Harley nods again, but looks up.

“What did Paul want?”

“Said he saw my picture with you at the fundraiser,” the kid explains. He is still hiccupping too often for Tony’s peace of mind, so he hands him another bottle of water. “Came to yell at mom about letting me talk to you.”

Tony raises a questioning eyebrow.

“He - uh - I think he - he’s been reading the gossip rags.”

Oh. _Oh._

The tabloid press world will never let Tony Stark forget his infamous year of debauchery immediately following the death of his parents. He may have privatized world peace, saved the planet a couple of times and be in a happily married relationship, but certain lowlives in the media are going to look at pictures of him with his nineteen year old protege and extended family and make disgusting accusations.

Tony rubs at his temples in frustration.

_Damn it._

“When mom said no,” Harley explains, “he tried to get me to talk to him alone. Aunt Sally called the police, but he still screamed - horrible things. The neighbors heard.”

“Kid,” he says. “Screw the goddamn neighbors.”

“The thing is,” Harley chuckles and it is entirely humorless, “he didn’t care about me. Not really, I - It’s been years, and he came to see me cause he couldn’t stand that his son might be a fag. He came to check, to make sure I wasn't.”

“Oh kiddo,” Tony’s heart is breaking. 

“I wish he’d just died,” Harley confesses. “I know that makes me a terrible person and I should feel guilty, but I don’t -”

“Shh, its okay,” he pulls Harley close, letting the kid put his head on his chest. “It’s okay. You’re not a terrible person. You’re amazing. It’s okay, kiddo, shh.”

“I _am_ sorry about the drinking though,” Harley says in a quiet voice. “And the driving. I know it was wrong. You are - I mean, I am sorry.”

“I want you to call your mother and tell her the same thing,” Tony orders, running his fingers through the kid’s curls. “You scared her real bad, Harls.”

“I will,” Harley answers.

"And if I ever hear you use the F-word to describe yourself or other people, I will ground your ass for an entire year."

"Yeah, okay," Harley nods. “Can I ask you something? I promise, I am not trying to erm - distract you from laying down my sentence or whatever -”

 _Good_ , the kid knows his fate. Knows he isn’t getting off _that_ easy.

“You can ask.”

“This is - you came down really hard on this,” he says, giving up on his struggle to phrase this delicately. “Like - I really freaked you out?”

“For your sake,” Tony answers what the kid isn’t asking, “I hope you never have to pull someone you love out of doing something monumentally self-destructive. God,” Tony holds the kid closer. “I have found a whole new level of appreciation for Rhodey.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “A story for another time. I promise, I will tell you all about my youthful misdemeanors with alcohol one day. But here’s what I want you to take away from all this - no matter how upset you are, no matter how stupid you think you’re being, it’s okay to ask for help. You could have called me from outside your Aunt Sally’s house and Iron Man would have punched a homophobe in the face for you.”

“Yeah.”

"Kid,” Tony lets Harley out of his arms so he can sit up, “I know you’re used to fighting your own battles, and you’re more than capable of shooting potatoes at the world, but maybe let someone else hold the potato gun once in a while, okay?”

That brings out an actual, genuine smile. _Take that, Paul._

“Okay,” Harley agrees. “Okay. I’ve put it off long enough. What’s my sentence going to be?”

“It’s going to be proportionate to the number of years you took off of my life,” Tony tells him. “This is outside of whatever your mother comes up with. That’s between you and her. I am a brave man, but I don’t stand in the way of Sarah Keener when she’s mad.”

“I hear you,” Harley shudders.

"Pepper has a friend at MADD,” Tony explains. “Congratulations. You’ve officially been signed up as a youth volunteer for six weeks of community service, Pepper Potts style.”

“MADD?”

“Mothers against Drunk Driving,” Tony says casually. “I have met Cheryl. She’s scary. I am sure she will make you miserable and work you hard. Pepper’s explained the details. She’s agreed to accommodate around your work schedule.”

“Six weeks?”

“Six weeks,” Tony nods. “What else? Grounded, except for work and going to see your mom. Oh, and no working on the cars in the garage until I say so.”

Harley groans.

“Nuh-uh buster,” Tony shakes his head. “I won’t let you _inside_ an automobile for at least a year. You’re kidding yourself if you think I am gonna let you take one apart in my garage.”

“The ferrari -”

"Can wait until the time the sight of you beside a car doesn’t make me want to lock you up in an ivory tower.”

“Fair enough.”

“Oh, I am so glad you think this arrangement is fair and just,” he says sarcastically. “I cannot tell you how much I care about your opinion.”

“How come when Peter screws up, he gets your graduate thesis but when I screw up, I get banned from playing with your cars?”

“The next time Peter scares a decade off my life, I will ban him from playing with my cars too,” Tony glares at him and he pipes down.

“Alright, jeez, you try and crack one joke to relieve the tension,” he whines.

“Maybe don’t do that,” Tony tells him. “Still serious about starting at SI for the summer?”

“If you still have an internship for me,” Harley answers. “My stint with the congresswoman ends two weeks before summer.”

“I wanted you in R&D,” Tony tells him. “But Pepper’s ordered that you start in the mail room. I think she’s planning a coup d'état.”

“From the mail room?”

“That’s where most insurgencies begin, Keener.”

“It’s also the best place to learn all the ins and outs of a company,” Harley points out. “In that I would have to know all the different departments to be able to get the mail to them?”

“You make some good points,” Tony says. “Anyway, that’s your sentence. No cars, volunteering at MADD, grounded until I say you aren’t, and being a mail room drone for twelve weeks in the summer.”

Harley accepts his fate with good grace. “Fine.”

“If Paul gets in touch with you, I want to know about it,” Tony orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

After a moment’s hesitation, Harley nods.

“I am really sorry, you know,” Harley says, addressing the floor.

“I know you are, kiddo,” Tony nods. “I am very, very proud of you for saying so.”

The smile on the kid’s face is worth everything.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on guys, we all know Peter will break first in the face of parental disapproval. Harley is more of a renegade until Tony convinces him that this time, _he is really mad._
> 
> If y'all couldn't tell, I know next to nothing about how doctoral programs, thesis or MIT works. The limited amount I do know is from my best friend who's a doctoral candidate and is always working. I imagine Tony, with his smarts, would have been seventeen times busier? This is suspension of disbelief, people. Not to be taken seriously.
> 
> Mothers Against Drunk Driving is a real charity. They do great work. Their donate page is [here](https://www.madd.org/donate-now/), if you are interested. 
> 
> I promise I am getting to all your prompts. It's just slow going. But I love every idea you have given me so far.
> 
> This instalment was particularly hard. Thank you Ashley for the great prompt. I worried about whether this was too OOC. Please tell me in the comments if I ruined this.


	12. Seven Things About the Iron Family (That May Surprise You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven Things about the Iron Family that may surprise you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note the addition in the relationship tag of this story.)
> 
> All of your love in the comments is what's keeping me going. I am a little behind on replies, but please know that I have seen EVERY single one of your comments, and I love you all.
> 
> I am trying something different in this chapter. You gotta do what the muse tells you to do, I guess.

**1\. Peter cannot lie to Tony Stark.**

Oh, he can obfuscate. He can lie by omission. He can not reveal certain information. But if Tony corners him and asks him a question point blank, the truth comes spilling out of Spiderman's pouting teenage mouth.

It drives Harley up the wall.

Harley, who met Tony when the latter was a piping hot mess, has no compuctions about lying to Tony if he thinks it's for the greater good. Harley has no delusions, and he shrugged off whatever wisps of hero worship might have clung to him about three minutes after meeting Tony Stark and shooting a potato at his head.

Peter, if he ever got over his natural inhibition and tendency to embarrass easy, would worship the ground Tony walks on.

(Tony knows this. He takes the responsibility seriously.)

So it is to Peter that Tony goes when he gets wind of mischief being afoot. Usually, he checks in, just to make sure his kids haven't gotten themselves in terrible trouble. It is how he finds out Harley is dating someone new, and no, Mr. Stark, I can't tell you who it is.

Tony asks Harley, who tells him to kindly mind his own business and that Tony would meet this person over someone's dead body. (Probably his.)

His children are ungrateful brats, is what he is saying.

~

**2\. Of all the people in Tony Stark's life, the person he's opened up to most about his PTSD is Harley Keener.**

It has something to do with how utterly unfazed Harley is in the face of anything. When Tony met him, the kid handled it like he found Iron Man in his barn every day, no big deal, nothing to see here, move right on people.

Tony likes that quality in a person. It's what endeared him to Phil Coulson originally.

Pepper is fond of saying that Harley is Switzerland in the revolving door quality of their lives. Harley offers perspective, and in many ways, he is a representation of what it is that Tony fights for.

Aliens invade, Peter puts on a red and blue onsie and jumps off buildings, Morgan inherits half the planet and in all probability, will one day run it, but Harley represents the normality in their lives. The kid's still gotta go to college. He would love to hang around and add kevlar lining to Peter's undersuit, but he's got to take the subway to go to work. He would love to read through the Accords document with War Machine, but he promised some work friends he'd go get froyo with them.

Harley can listen to Tony breathe rough, and whisper about aliens in his nightmares. Harley can listen, can pat him on the back and say, 'everyone's struggling with something or the other, Mr. Stark. No need to be a pussy about it.'

It never invalidates Tony's pain. But it reminds him that he's not alone, and if his coping mechanisms are a little weirder than the average Joe's, well, that's alright too.

~  
**3\. Morgan has the cutest crush on Bucky Barnes.**

Initially, after he and Cap kissed and made up (metaphorically), Tony let Barnes use the BARF system. Even then, Tony kept the meetings restricted to the tower. He is Iron Man, and he is paranoid about protecting his family.

He trusts Barnes, he does.

But the list of people he would allow into his home and breathe the same air as his daughter is a very small list.

When they do meet, Morgan's eyes gloss over Captain America and zoom in on the shiny metal arm attached to the quiet, handsome man.

She makes grabby hands.

"This is Bucky," Tony introduces them. "He doesn't like loud noises or sudden, sharp gestures. So no jumping out of corners to surprise him like you do with Peter, okay Morgoona?"

"Okay daddy," she nods, completely unfazed, because as far as she is concerned, everyone in her life has a little bit of weirdness, so weirdness is her normal. Tony loves this fact.

She reaches out with a gentle, small hand, projecting her action so Bucky can move back if he wants to. When he doesn't, she touches the metal arm, smiles at him and says, "You're cool."

Barnes' shy smile could light the sun.

After that, they are bosom buddies.

When the Starks stay at the compound for the weekend so Tony can meet with the Accords council, Bucky shadows Morgan, always five steps behind her. He sits in her tiny pink chair when she plays tea party, sipping out of gentle, bone thin china and letting her do his hair. He takes the wrapper off her chocolate bar, and accepts shyly when she offers him half. He watches with gentle, dancing eyes when Steve braids her hair and rolls out playdoh elephants in accordance with her exacting, detailed instructions.

Steve spends most of his time making watery eyes at the pair of them and trying not to melt into a puddle of goo.

"I am going to marry Bucky," she tells Tony one night while he's tucking her in.

"He's too old for you," Tony replies seriously, trying not to laugh. "I can't give my blessing."

"It's okay," she says with all the conviction of a five year old. "Mom said I can borrow her white pashmina."

"When is this wedding?"

"Tomorrow, daddy," she presses a cute finger to his nose. "But after lunch cause Paw Patrol is on at four o clock and Peter's gonna watch it with me."

Wedding and Paw Patrol. She has her priorities right.

The next day, Barnes good naturedly stands up straight as she comes down the stairs, Pepper's white Pashmina trailing behind her like a cape. She's got a spiderman hair tie pulling her hair back, and she's holding the succulent Dum-E keeps in the workshop in lieu of flowers.

Tony blinks away tears, and makes FRIDAY record the whole thing.

One day, she will get married for real and this is the kind of home movie he's planning on playing during the reception.

~

**4\. Peter has a real SI internship, and he's very good at it.**

The internship started out as a front for the Spider-assisting. Peter would meet with Tony every Friday, and they would work on suit upgrades together.

Once Pepper got wind of it, she met May Parker and convinced her that Peter might as well get some academic credit while he was at it.

For the employees in the IT department at the SI offices in the tower, Peter is a familiar sight, pushing the mail cart through, and dropping envelopes on individual desks during his circuit every evening. He goes on coffee runs, he remembers people's names, he chips in a few dollars for birthdays and the christmas raffle, and is so well behaved that HR can't believe he's survived prolonged contact with Tony Stark. They assign him to shadow Pepper's assistant for a week, and by the time he's done, he's revamped the application she uses for her business calendar, gotten her a weekly spa appointment that improves her mood by three hundred percent.

HR loves him. He is polite, friendly and competent. The other employees usually have a friendly wave for him, and set aside a share of cookies, muffins or cakes for Peter in the fridge with a note on.

R&D were initially skeptic of this wunderkind that Pepper Potts deposited in their midst. SI employees don't take well to blatant displays of nepotism, but Potts is the boss, so they shut up about it and observe. Then one day, Mark complains loudly in the middle of the lab about blueprints that have come back with red underlines from Tony Stark.

"Give me that," Peter asks from his little cubicle.

"What are YOU going to do?" Mark asks him, skeptical.

"These plans are fine," Peter says, taking the prints. "He's just throwing a hissy fit."

Without another word, he gathers up the rolls and walks out of there like he didn't just call out their boss on a tantrum.

Mark exchanges a look with the other employees, shrugs and gets back to work. Nobody is more shocked when Stark comes sauntering into the lab an hour later, Parker trailing behind him.

"Alright," he says. "The architect of this chaos, bedazzle me. Convince me why your design is the way to go."

He climbs up one of the desks and sits back, crossing his arms like the ruler of his little kingdom, bestowing time and grace upon lesser mortals.

Mark realizes Parker is staring at him, gesturing with eyebrows like he wants him to get a move on.

"Right," Mark says, setting up the projector. "You see, Mr. Stark-"

The blueprints are approved an hour later. After a couple of helpful corrections, Stark concedes that the idea isn't entirely terrible, which from him is the equivalent of pulling out pom poms and doing a belly dance.

Everyone in R&D chips in five dollars to buy Parker a SI sweatshirt.

~  


**5\. Of all the Iron Kids hanging around in his life, Tony sees himself the most in Nebula.**

He understands her pain. How she is fractured and broken somewhere in the core of her, and it may never mend, but they are both broken people holding those pieces together through sheer force of will and getting the job done. He knows what it is like to have everything you believed in thrown out the window. He knows what it is like to doggedly win the trust of the people you let down over and over again.

He gets her in a visceral way.

After they are done saving the planet and destroying Thanos, when Tony's arm is in the sling and he's recovered from several surgeries, he finds that Nebula is still wary around the rest of them. She is always in the periphery, standing a little outside the group and looking in. Pepper tells him they've tried drawing her in, but after repeated refusals, they decided to give her space. Tony knows nothing about giving someone space.

Fuck that shit.

"Hey," he calls. "Wanna see my arm?"

She looks hesitant, like she is resisting the urge to turn and look behind her, like Tony might be talking to someone else.

"Come on over," he calls again. "My arm is so brand new that I'll be ready to kick your ass at soccer again. Wasn't that fun?"

She looks at his arm and the purple sling.

"It was fun," she concedes. He catches her staring at the sling, glaring purple, and he realizes what the problem might be.

Catching Pepper's eye, he says, "Morgan loves piping hot red, Pep. Get me a red sling."

The purple one is removed and possibly thrown down their incinerator, and Pepper is wrapping the iron man red sling around his neck. Nebula comes closer, and peeks at the arm.

"What do you think?" he asks her, voice gentle.

"Is it painful?" she asks him, her eyes kind.

"Not anymore," he tells her. "I just can't move it a lot."

"I will help," she states like it's the most obvious thing in the world. God, this kid. He can't believe how she turned out like this, so innately good.

"Thank you. You can be my little helper."

She smiles at him.

He sets Peter and Harley the task of getting rid of every item in the house that could be considered to be even a shade of purple. He understands what association can be like. There's still a particular brand of humidity, combined with water that sets his teeth on edge.

Months later, when she voluntarily leans against his side, seeking affection and being confident that it won't be rejected, he considers a job well done, feeling so, so PROUD of her that he could burst with it.  
~

**6. Tony and MJ are text buddies.**

The thing is, he really wanted to know what this girl was like. This girl who owns Peter's heart and soul. When Peter Parker calls you the best person he knows, you must be something special.

He makes FRIDAY hack Peter's phone and get her number.

He knows MJ knows Peter is spiderman. MJ knows Tony knows she knows Peter is spiderman. By mutual silent agreement, they have agreed not to tell Peter.

"He is falling asleep in class, you know," she texts him when sends her a 'Hi, you know who I am' introductory message. Doesn't miss a beat, this kid.

He gets into the Baby Monitor logs and verifies the intel she's given him. The kid is not getting enough sleep. He isn't eating enough calories either.

He finds an excuse to visit May that week. They order dinner in, and he personally draws Peter into helping him do some mindnumbing work on this AI application he's debugging. The kid falls asleep on top of the laptop. It's barely eight thirty when Tony's done tucking the kid in his little twin bed.

"Tell me what's going on," May orders when he comes out of Peter's room.

"He's running himself into the ground," he informs her. "A new curfew might not be a terrible idea."

She nods. "It should come from me."

"Make him think it will make YOU feel better," he suggests.

She gives him an approving look, like she's surprised he's caught on fast. Yeah, Parenting. He's all over that shit.

He decides that this MJ is good people, and most likely a future President of the United States, so he decides to stay in her good books.

"Disastrous calculus test," he gets a text from MJ followed by a dozen sad emojis. "Friendly neighborhood sulking man."

Sighing, Tony cancels his evening meeting with the Joint Chiefs and drives over to the Parkers. He's got tubs of ice cream and one of his old college calculus textbooks. By the end of the night, he's managed to restore a smile on Peter's face.

This MJ person, he decides, is exactly the right kind of double agent he needs in his life.

On it goes for months, Tony's sort of clandestine text relationship with a teenage girl.

"That came out wrong," he tells Pepper one night, as they get ready for bed. "You know what I mean."

"It's sweet," Pepper says. "He should ask her out."

This is a brilliant idea. Pepper is the smartest person in his life. Peter must ask MJ out. They will be adorable little teenagers, awkward and weird and probably exchanging true love bracelets. MJ can give Peter her letterman jacket. Tony knows that's totally a thing.

He waits for the next opportunity when Peter's drinking a beverage (Gatorade, bottle just at his lips) when Tony bursts out with "You should ask MJ on a date."

The spit take is glorious. Peter spits all over Captain America. His t-shirt sticks to his pecs. Barnes throws Tony an appreciative glance. It's a win-win-win.

"What the hell?" Peter asks like the adorable kitten he is. "I am sorry Mr. America -"

"It's fine, Peter, it's not YOUR fault," Steve glares at Tony.

"What the hell, Mr. Stark?" Peter looks at him, all righteous teenage indignation. He crosses his arms over his chest and everything, standing beside Captain America, a little replica _'about-to-punch-a-fascist'_ expression on his face that Steve does so well.

"You have been waxing poetic about this girl for months," Tony points out, and just like that, Steve switches all his glaring to Peter. The man is a sucker for romance. "You should ask her out. Woman up, Parker."

"MJ is -"

"Smart? Funny? Brilliant?"

"I was going to say terrifying," Peter answers. Having texted the kid half a dozen times, Tony totally gets that.

"Kid," Tony puts an arm around the kid's shoulders. "I date Pepper Potts. Do I look like I regret it?"

The kid considers that for a moment, eyes widening. "Pepper is terrifying too," Peter says finally, like he's just realized that. "Holy crap, Pepper is your MJ!"

Accurate and succinct.

"No shit, Sherlock," he says, cause he's gotta have his fun.

"How did you ask Pepper?"

"Well," Tony says, thinking back. "First, I was dying a little bit, and then I made her an omelet -"

"No, stop!" Steve barks, physically slapping one huge palm on his mouth to shut him up. "Peter, ask literally ANYONE else in the building. Seriously. Pick anyone else."

"HEY!" Tony says, his voice muffled against the gigantic paw of America.

"No, you have a point," Peter nods. "Okay, I am going to do this. Thanks Mr. Stark! Bucky! Mr. America."

Steve doesn't let him go until Peter's practically skipped out of the room.

Ungrateful little brat.

The next afternoon, Peter shows up at the compound. He is covered in green paint from head to toe.

He stands in the rec room, wearing his backpack and his paint sodden clothes and glares at Tony.

"What happened, kid?"

"I asked MJ," he says.

"Cool, what did she say?"

"I didn't hear her answer, cause I tripped and fell."

"Into Lex Luthor's Kryptonite factory?"

The kid throws his dripping jacket at his head.

"What's the answer gonna be?" he texts MJ that evening, after helping Pete scrub out about a bucket's worth of paint from his hair.

She texts him back the middle finger emoji. He decides, enough is enough. He is fucking Iron Man.

"Come on, kid," he tells Peter. "Put some nice clothes on. I'll drive you. You can go get your prince charming and get an answer in person."

"What?"

"Get dressed," Tony orders, trying not to roll his eyes at how much the kid's sulked today.

The kid puts on fairly decent clothes (no nerd puns, and absolutely nothing with a superhero logo on it) and Tony drives him into the city. They stop at a florist on the way, and Tony watches Peter pick out daisies with the attention one usually gives a nuclear warhead trained on them.

Like he said, young love: adorable.

He waits outside in the car while Peter knocks on the door, bouquet of daisies in his hand.

Given the distance from the front door, Tony can't really hear the conversation when MJ opens the door, but there's no mistaking the awkward first kiss on the porch. When they drive away, over promises of "I'll see you in school tomorrow!" and "Whatever, nerdboy!" Tony sees MJ smiling at them in the rear view mirror.

Yeah, he decides, _she_ can stay.

*  
MJ totally gives Peter her letterman jacket. Peter is smug for weeks.

~

**7\. Rhodey always knew Tony would make a good father.**

Rhodey always knew Tony would end up here - mature, responsible, with a large family. He always knew Tony would make a good father.

He doesn't understand what the media is so shocked about.

Tony's been taking care of people from the time he was a gangly fourteen year old at MIT. He would bring his girlfriends flowers and tea. He always kept a hot water bottle and tampons in his room when he started dating Rumiko. Every Christmas, Tony sends Mrs. Rhodes flowers and puts money on her Walmart card, so she can get groceries delivered at home. He's been doing maintenence on Rhodey's bike for the last twenty years. The man tried to build a suit of armor around the world.

Taking care of people is how Tony functions.

Of course that translates to being a great dad.

Rhodey isn't surprised at all. He's known from day one. He's believed from the moment he met Tony. 

He's known all along that it's not the armor that makes Tony a good man.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and prompts keep me going! 
> 
> (Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you get to punch a fascist today.)


	13. Not-A-Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's the one who introduced Shuri to Tony. There is absolutely no reason for him to want to web her up every time she gesticulates at Tony's holoscreens like she _belongs_ there, playing with his robots and threatening to update all his anti-malware software.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> So wow, I am late. This update is WAYYY later than I expected. But DC's Crisis on Infinite Earths happened and I got sucked into writing for Arrow for a bit. Then, someone prompted a [West Wing/Marvel crossover](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1393501), so I did that. I am back to my true holy grail now: **Marvel.**
> 
> For the anon on tumblr who prompted: SHURI! And Peter or Harley being jealous.
> 
> (I am fulfilling prompts. All my commenters - I see you. I have read your prompts. They're all coming.)

There's just certain things that you can't go through together and not come through the other end without being friends. Being wiped to dust by Thanos is one of those experiences.

"Did you just compare this to fighting a troll with Hermione?" She rolls his eyes at him. She does that a lot, but she is still one of the coolest people Peter knows.

"Yes, I did," he says because this has never happened to him before. He's never found a friend who could keep up with him. (God, does she do that! She is also the smartest person he knows, and THAT's saying something cause he knows Tony Stark) She gets brownie points for also getting all his Harry Potter references. Even though Harry Potter isn't very cool now. 

"Come on," he takes her elbow and drags her along through the metal staircase down to Tony's workshop. 

"Kidlet," Tony points a screwdriver at him when they enter. "Kidlet hangar on," he points it at Shuri. "What are you doing here?"

Before Peter can get a word out, Shuri is moving toward one of the dancing blue screens, tapping away. "Are you mapping the Poincare conjecture in five dimensions?" Shuri asks, eyes dancing.

"Well yes, obviously," Tony answers. "Not that the math wants to co-operate today -"

"This is a closed 3 manifold," she tells him. "Did you notice? Holy fuck, that's brilliant! You can also expand this eigen value here and apply it to point Z -"

"Making it homeomorphic! How did I not see that!"

"Did you seriously do the math on this, fuck, that takes serious computing power -"

"I've got serious computing power, what do you think this is, the first Macintosh? I got the processor speed -"

"What model-"

"I build my own goddamn server farm, Chekov -”

“Stop nicknaming people off of Star Trek characters,” Peter interjects, because a) it’s not cool, and b) _he_ wanted to be Chekov, damnit.

Tony doesn’t seem to have heard him. “- Leave the computing to me - what about the Eigen value of this little bugger over here, he is entirely in the wrong plane, plug him back to where he belongs and if I reset the vectors - I wonder if we can expand it to five dimensional space -"

"On it, hand me a tablet -"

"This is Shuri," Peter has to yell over the collective, ongoing nerdgasm. "She is a princess. T'Challa asked me to keep her out of trouble. Shuri, this is Tony."

They give no indication of noticing he is in the room. Gritting his teeth, Peter leaves them to it.

~

They don't emerge for sixteen hours. 

When they do, they show up together in the kitchen, eyes wide. Tony's got writing in sharpie ink all over his arm and Shuri is excitedly poking at a StarkPad. They are both immersed in the work, talking in sentence fragments, trusting the other to understand them.

Tony calls her Princess unironically.

Peter wants to web her _gently_ to the wall.

Gritting his teeth, he decides to go see MJ. He’s got a girlfriend now. He doesn’t need _attention._

~

"Hey Spiderman," Steve greets him in the kitchen the next day. "Did you know that you are hugging the cereal box?"

"I like this cereal box. It's good cereal."

"Alright then," he smiles, rummaging through the contents of the fridge for some orange juice. "Wasn't sure if you knew."

"The cereal box loves me," he mutters under his breath, but it's not low enough to beat super soldier hearing.

"So do we," Steve tells him. "And yet, there isn't an Avenger you have hugged as hard as you're hugging that box of fruit loops."

"Fruit loops," comes a low giggle from the doorway. Harley walks in, carrying little Morgan.

"Fruit loops," she giggles again, reaching for the box. Harley lets her sit on the counter and Peter shares the box because he isn't a monster.

"Where's Tony?" Harley asks the room.

"Workshop," Steve answers. "They were still buried in math stuff when I went downstairs. T'Challa is getting worried."

"The King of Wakanda?" Harley asks, eyes wide, trying for an unimpressed air but missing by a mile.

"The very same," Steve smiles, getting out a pan to start on eggs. "He wondered if this one," he gestures at Peter, "wandered off and lost his only sister."

"More like she lost me," Peter mutters.

"Don't worry, young padawan," Harley ruffles his hair. "I am going to fix this. Take notes. Come on, adorable little bundle of bribery." He picks Morgan up off the counter along with the box of fruit loops, and starts in the direction of the workshop.

Peter hurries to follow. "Are you - are you using Morgan to lure Tony out of the workshop?"

"Desperate times," Harley agrees.

"Why?"

"Mom wants me to attend cousin Stanley's wedding," Harley explains. "I need Tony to make up a very important task for me so I am super busy that weekend."

"What's wrong with attending cousin Stanley's wedding?"

"Well," he says. "The reception alone is going to be filled with redneck homophobes. Not to mention that I will be the lone Democrat in a crowd of Republicans."

"Do they know you work for AoC?"

"My aunt sent a group text and blew my cover," he grimaces. "You won't believe the exorcism emails I have gotten."

"They tried to exorcise you?"

"Unsuccessfully, seeing as how I am still very much entrenched in the liberal agenda."

Peter smiles.

"Ennntrench," Morgan repeats, digging into the box of fruit loops and leaving a trail on the floor behind them.

"Yes, Morgoona, I use big words," Harley laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Peter looks away, trying not to melt into mush right there. _Be cool, Parker._

When they get to the workshop, FRIDAY turns off the music as per Pepper's _Morgan Needs Functioning Ears When She Is Eighteen_ Protocol. Both Tony and Shuri are bent over the dented chest plate from Mark seventy three.

"I thought you were doing math," Peter says, failing to keep the betrayed tone out of his voice. Beating the dents out of the armor together is _their_ thing, goddamn it.

"We got bored of that," Shuri answers. "Tony bet me that I can't boost the energy efficiency of the armor. I can't take that lying down."

Because Peter and Harley are two _very_ different people, they respond like this.

"What did he bet you?" Harley asks. At the same time, Peter goes, "You got bored of solving a Millenium problem?"

Tony beelines for Morgan. "Eh, you solve one, you have solved them all." Morgan makes grabby hands for her dad, so Harley passes her on to Tony who holds her close and kisses her hair.

"I missed you, little miss Morgoona, I missed you three thousand. How's your day going? Did you meet any enterprising five year olds?"

"Fruit loops," she tells him seriously, holding the box out, letting him put her on one of the workbenches.

"Well, thank you, that's very nice of you. Keener, did she eat anything other than processed sugar?"

"Dude, I am not your babysitter," he says even though his tone is fond. "Seriously, what did he bet you?"

"The red ferrari," Shuri tells him, head still bent over the chestplate.

It's Harley's turn to look betrayed. 

"Calm down, giant eyes," Tony tells Harley, picking up Morgan again. "She can't get more juice out of the armor. If there was a way, don't you think I would have found it already? Don't break the shop, princess. I am going to feed my daughter something that would pass Wilson's health pyramid test."

"But if she wins -" Harley starts.

"She won't win!"

"You said I could rebuild the engine of the red ferrari -"

"And you still can, because she won't win!" He yells out the last part over his shoulder as they leave the workshop.

Shuri yells back something impolite, so they hurry out before Morgan can repeat it.

~

Peter feels much better once they all have breakfast together. Tony's attention is on the meal, as he feeds Morgan and bickers with Harley, and Peter could almost soak it up.

"Underoos," Tony says, stirring oatmeal on the stove. "What's going on with you? I have hardly seen you the past couple of days."

Peter smiles, and tells him about Ned, the decathlon team and the latest prank they pulled on Mr. Ellis, their gym teacher. 

"You should invite your friends over," Tony tells him. "It's been a while since I have seen Ned, and I think it's about time you lift the ban on my meeting MJ -"

"It's a lifetime ban!" 

" - I am a cool, impressive person. MJ will be impressed that you are friends with me -"

"The very fact that you think that shows you don't know MJ at all -"

"And who's fault is that?"

Harley clears his throat. Peter looks from Tony to Harley back to Tony.

"What?" he asks them.

"I have it on good authority," Harley says, looking at Peter like he is particularly dense, "that letting your girlfriend see you with your little sister makes her go goeey."

It takes a minute to click. "Is using Morgan as bribery your solution to everything?" Peter rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, he is not wrong," Tony admits, and Harley gestures in a 'Thank you!' motion at the room. "Hang on, when else have you used Morgan as bribery - hey, Keener, what the hell -"

"Stop and listen for a minute. About next weekend -"

"Too slow, kid, your mom called me already," Tony grins, transferring oatmeal to a bowl and crouching on the floor to dig through the bottom cupboard for Morgan's pink princess spoon. 

"To-neeeee"

"That was a whine! I want it noted for the record that you whined at me after arguing for hours last week that you _never_ whine -"

"Cousin Stanley's family hates me!"

"It's the price you pay for being smarter than everyone else, kiddo. They all want to be you. It's a curse, I agree -"

"I am not going!"

Tony finds the spoon and stands back up, letting Morgan sit on the high stool and putting the bowl in front of her. "You can't run away every time you have to be stuck in a room full of people who hate you. You will end up never being able to leave the house."

"Like you, you mean?"

"Hey!" Tony points a spoon at him, and a big dollop of oatmeal plops loudly on the kitchen counter. "I left the house last week!"

"To-neeee," Harley whines again. 

"We will talk about this on Sunday," Tony tells him. "If you are still seriously miserable about going -"

"I will be," Harley assures him, putting his head in his hands. 

" - I shall reconsider," he says. "Now, underoos," Tony turns to Peter, "can't help but notice that I didn't receive updates on your AI system this week."

"Surprised you noticed," Peter mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them or feel guilty about them.

The room goes troublingly silent, even Morgan looking up from her cooing to stare at Peter.

“That was a joke,” he says desperately. “No, don’t make that face. Totally kidding. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Let’s talk about it,” Tony says, setting his plate down on the counter.

“I am going to take Morgan,” Harley says, his movements rapid, “and go over there. Anywhere really. Going.” He picks up Morgan and high tails it out of there. Peter stares after him with envy.

“You can’t speed through life avoiding talking about feelings, Keener,” Tony calls after him.

“Watch me,” Harley yells back on his way out the door.

“Coward,” Tony mutters, coming around the kitchen counter and hopping on the stool beside Peter. “Alright underoos, talking time.”

“Please just kill me,” Peter groans into his hands, his face red with heat.

“So what is it that we’re feeling now?” Tony continues, looking at him. “Neglected? Sad? Jealous?”

“Stop, Tony, please, it’s not -” Peter pulls the hood of his jacket oer his head, trying to hide inside the fabric.

“Hey Spiderling,” Tony reaches out with a hand and pulls the hood off, “You know you’re my very favorite spiderkid, right? Looking for zero replacements. One webslinger. One pain in the ass friendly neighborhood vigilante. Full house.”

“Please stop trying to -”

“Hey, serious talk time,” Tony grabs the base of Peter’s stool and turns it around to make Peter face him. “Look at me.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he confesses through gritted teeth. “It makes sense, really.”

“What makes sense?”

“She is a genius,” he points out, his heart hurting. “You’re a genius. _Harley_ is a genius.”

“Harley is an anti-establishment socialist,” Tony tells him.

"So are you!" 

“We don't go about advertising it, jeez. The point is, Harley is DISOWNED!" Tony yells the last word out over his shoulder, and ignores the peal of laughter from the next room. "I am not big on royal princesses, either. Not as much as I am on dumbass kids from Queens.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“She is a smart kid,” Tony explains. “I like smart kids. I found out I like smart kids when I met _you,_ underoos. This isn’t a subway ticket line: hold your seat until the next smart person comes through. What am I running? MENSA training center? Buckle up.”

“You are terrible at this,” Peter says, his face heating up again. “Please stop trying to be comforting. You are - wow, there are no words to describe how bad you are at this.”

“I am - what the hell, Parker! I get invited to speak at universities! High schools! I am pretty damn motivational.”

“That’s probably because you dress up in heavy armor and shoot at things.”

“That too,” Tony admits. “Are we good? Come here. Medicinal hug indicated for the occasion. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not that kinda doctor,” Peter tells him but accepts the hug, going into Tony’s outstretched arms happily. 

“By like one semester,” Tony grunts out. “I was nearly a Doctor, but they wanted me to draw diagrams.”

“How dare they.” Peter deadpans, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder.

"I could be a doctor!"

"The closest you can come is probably the dumbass on Doctor Who," Peter snarks back. 

“Cut the sass. Stop ruining the moment. I let you have a dog, what more do you want from me?” he presses a kiss into Peter’s hair. “Don’t tell Harley, but you’re my favorite spiderson, okay?”

“I bet you say that to all of us.”

“I said to cut the sass,” Tony lets go of the hug, looking at Peter at arm's length. “Come on, you can come spend time with us downstairs. Do the heavy lifting. Keep the princess from breaking my workshop.”

“God forbid someone other than _you_ break your workshop.”

“Exactly.” Tony ruffles his hair, puts an arm around Peter’s shoulders and leads him downstairs. 

 _Yeah,_ Peter thinks, _he could get used to this._

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [Millenium Problems](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Millennium_Prize_Problems) are a real thing. Only one of them have been solved in our reality, the one without a Tony Stark. What a tragedy.

**Author's Note:**

> I take prompts for this story! Leave me all your unfulfilled Iron Dad feels ideas in the comments.
> 
> And if you enjoyed this, please show some love to the tumblr post for this fic, and reblog:  
> [here](https://ao3feed-pepperony.tumblr.com/post/184900685086/adventures-of-iron-dad-and-his-iron-kids-minus)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at [baffledkingcomposinghallelujah](http://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com)


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